Life On Mars?
by Dancewithknives
Summary: Angela Ziegler used to think that weddings were simple affairs, two people meet, fall in love, and are bonded together forever and ever. She was wrong, that was getting married, and as a wise man once said, a wedding was a whole different beast in its own right. Her good friend Lena will be wed soon, but for as happy as she is for her friend, there is only one problem with that…
1. Forward

Forward and Coverart

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Description

Angela Ziegler used to think that weddings were simple affairs, two people meet, fall in love, and are bonded together forever and ever. She was wrong, that was getting married, and as a wise man once said, a wedding was a whole different beast in its own right.

Her good friend Lena will be wed soon, but for as happy as she is for her friend, there is only one problem with that…

Forward

I wanted to put this first as a warning before this story. I agonized for the better part of 4 months while writing this story trying to get it to sound right and convey what I am trying to express, but I've come to the conclusion that no matter what I do the mindreaders will believe whatever they want to believe. Regardless of how this probably won't convince any of them as to what I mean, I wanted to put this here for the record as to what my intentions are for any who are interested.

First and foremost, I am a troll, I enjoy trolling, I have separate accounts for trolling, but with that being said, I am not trying to intentionally upset or dupe my audience. Rather, this was written as my own reaction to attending my best friend's wedding. Although this is not a accurate recreation of what had happened, I changed things around, added extra drama and other elements to the narrative or changed things to make the story coherent and fictional enough on its own, the end result was to try to share the conflicting feelings I had while preparing for the event.

At its core, this is a human story about human characters have human issues with each other, I for one enjoy the extravagant adventures and action of the stories I often write, but I enjoy a challenge and so decided to give this story a try. Likewise, I also wanted to make the inverse of what this type of story usually is, to have the shoe on the other foot to show how people's actions can differ compared to their words. The final theme I wanted to have in this story is how it seems that in the society we have today, with revolutionary means to communicate and are the most interconnect we have ever been, it seems that we are the most isolated on a personal basis and less willing to try to understand each other.

Finally, although it is too late for it, I wanted to dedicate this story in part to David Bowie, who's music was a major inspiration in drafting, and his album Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, which I believe exemplifies the convoluted twisty turny murder ball that we happen to call a world and the maniacs who live on it.

That is all I have to say before beginning, but if you would like to discuss the flaws and merits of the politics involved in the story rather than narrative, then by all means feel free to click on the X in the top right corner of your screen.


	2. Ch1 Modern Love

Life on Mars?

"The biggest mistake I ever made… I was always a closet heterosexual."

-David Bowie

Modern Love

Although morning, the sun had not yet risen over the horizon. In the cold dark of the small room, a woman sat, hiding from the rest of the world as she waited against the sick feeling coursing through her. She sat on top of the laundry machine, the only place to easily sit while also being the furthest she could be from the other resident in the home. Although the room's lamp was off, a light glowed from the woman's chest, the device strapped onto her and its fusion reactor illuminating the piece of paper that was currently in her shaking hand.

She took a breath, calming herself and preparing for what was to come. In the hand opposite of the note was a cell phone. She unlocked the face, scrolled through the contacts, and after a shiver of hesitation, she dialed the number.

Across the world, another woman was lying in bed. To the unassuming eye, she looked to be sleeping while wrapped in the arms of a lover, but this was not as it seemed. Although it may have seemed that there were two people in the bed, what accompanied this woman was a full sized body pillow. Far past any reasonable hours to be awake, the occupant in this dark room was asleep, high above the world inside of their high-rise apartment, recharging from a long day's work. But, breaking through the tranquil darkness and privacy of the bedroom was a sudden bright light and loud ringing.

A cellphone, lying on the nightstand, lit up the darkness of the room, and after a moment to take in the sudden awakening, a hand emerged from the crack beneath the sheets and pulled it inside.

"_Hallo?_" asked the voice. Through serendipity, the word having the same meaning in both languages she was fluent in.

"Dr. Ziegler?" an awake and alert voice asked over the phone.

The urgent tone woke up the sleeping woman, who sat up in bed and responded, "Yes, what's wrong."

"Yes, Doctor. There's been a terrible accident at a nearby chemical factory and we have two amputees currently needing attention."

Throwing the covers off and swinging her legs to the side of the bed, Dr. Angela Ziegler, PHD, MD, was ready to act. "What is their current condition?" she asked.

Quickly, the nurse reported, "Dr. Mugandi is currently in surgery with one and the other is stabilized and on ice at the moment."

"Alright, I will be there in about thirty minutes." The doctor answered, giving a salutation and hanging up the phone. The doctor went to her bathroom and took a quick shower to wake up the rest of her body before getting changed into the previous day's work attire. Not much longer after that, Angela was standing beside her door, pocketing her car keys, access beacon to the apartment's garage in hand, and tying her blonde hair back into a high ponytail, the hairs themselves assuming their fixed position from years of constriction and memory.

As soon as she brought her hands down, the phone began buzzing once more. Reflexively, Angela answered the phone as she moved to the door, reporting, "I'm on my way, what's the-" but before she could finish requesting a report, a different voice answered her. While she had been expecting the triage nurse to be calling in a panic, the voice that answered her was calm, controlled, familiar, and put a chill down her spine.

"Hello, Angela."

Cold sweat forming in her palms, Dr. Ziegler stuttered before answering, "H-hello, Lena… how are you?"

"I got your letter today." The English woman said. "I see you wrote that you weren't going to be able to attend." There was silence, a pause to keep calm before she finished, "Why?"

Like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, Dr. Angela Ziegler knew that this day would come. Like a seed planted into the dirt, the announcement from half a year ago had set in motion a creeping dread, something that was recognized, but the full impact of its meaning had been growing and growing until the coming struggle could no longer be ignored.

Lena was getting married, and there was only one problem with that.

Angela felt like she was cornered in her own home by the voice coming from the tiny box. The doctor combed her hand through her hair as she nervously glanced at the dark floor in her entryway. "Lena…" she began, "You know why…"

"No." the English woman responded sternly, voice like an axe being sharpened at a whetstone, "I don't."

"It's just… well…"

"'Just what?' exactly!"

Angela thought she had prepared herself, signing her regrets for declining the invitation and hoping for the best while being ready for the worst; but it seemed that things were going to be much harder than she had anticipated. "It's… well, you know why-"

"Say it!" she demanded. Something in the background of the call fell over and its impact on the ground was audible on the line. "I want you to say it to my face!"

Angela covered her mouth, almost as if she were hiding from an intruder on the other side of her closet door. Dr. Ziegler was unable to speak, completely off guard by the confrontation, and even though she knew what the answer was, she didn't know how to say it in a way that would make the situation anything but worse. But, to her luck, there was an intruder on their call. In the background of Lena's line, an old squeaky door opened, and another voice began to speak. Although it was unrecognizable, Angela assumed that it must have been Emilee, Lena's longtime girlfriend. With the sudden release of pressure, Dr. Ziegler could breathe and release the stranglehold on her mind. With the gridlock broken, Angela was able to think, and with it, she remembered the reason why she was awake at such an early hour, and said, "Lena, I'm terribly sorry, but there's an emergency elsewhere and I need to get going."

The doctor waited for a second to see if her exit plan worked, to which it had, but as she said goodbye, the only farewell she received was a curt, "This isn't finished." Before the line went dead.

Angela let go of a breath that she didn't even know she was holding, and took a grip on all of the trouble she was in. She wanted to take a seat, lean against the wall and slide down to the floor. For as strange as it felt, a part of her wanted to sob, but now was not the time. She was expected elsewhere, and for as much as it felt like a mountain of bother was on her mind, it was a trifle when it came to the lives of others.

She pulled her coat on and double checked to make sure her keys were in her pocked. As she opened the door to her apartment, she looked above the precipice, at a cross of shining gold in the darkness. It wasn't just her crucifix, but her family's. She took another breath and exited her home, walking to the elevator and commanding it to take her to the parking garage.

The descent was long, and its silence allowed her to contemplate the situation she was in. The teachings of the Lord had guided her through the troubles and tribulations of her life, and surely the Good Shepherd would guide her through these times as well. She just prayed that Lena would come around to understand the predicament she was in and the decision that Swiss doctor had made. By the time the elevator hit reached its destination, Angela had decided that something must be done, and as she thought it over, she considered that the best thing to do would be to send Lena and her partner a gift, something sincere to show that she still cared.

* * *

_Many years ago…_

From graduating at the top of her class at Medical School at the tender age of seventeen, it seemed that the sky was the limit for the young Doctor Ziegler. Still, even with a world of possibilities before her, becoming the Head Medical Officer of Overwatch was still surreal for the doctor, even after it had been a few years at the Organization.

Although much more accustomed to the medical labs of the facility, over the past few months Angela had become much more acquainted with the experimental science labs on the premise. Not out of her own curiosity, but instead out of need.

So, late in the night, after raiding the cafeteria's coffee machines, Angela entered into the experimental wing of the science department with a four-cup cardboard holder full of black coffee in Styrofoam cups. She approached her workstation and set the drinks down out of the way of her projects as she sat and got back to work.

Although the department had shut down for the night, she was not alone in the lab. Deciding to indulge herself on one more distraction before getting back to work, Dr. Ziegler stood up once more and walked up to the reason why she had begun working outside of her normal department.

In the center of the lab was a secured observation container. Like a habitat at a zoo, this device was only about 144 square feet in total, but unlike an animal cage, it held the amenities that a human would need. Although most of the container was glass, made from see-through aluminum, there was a secure port where items could be sent in and out of the habitat. There was a bed, a table, a chair, and a small chalkboard for messages to be written on inside. In one of the corners was privacy screen as well as a secured wall, which as she had been told, hid the shower and toilet for the occupant to have some privacy. A heavy blast door secured the container, and a large apparatus above it glowed with all sorts of machines that maintained the environment within.

Atop every viewport of the cage was a screen hooked up to camera's within. Although it may seem redundant to the uninformed, due to the nature of the subject, at certain times it was the only way to see the person on the inside.

Angela Looked the sterile environment, checking what she saw through the window with her own eyes and then checking the digital screen, and was surprised to see that both were matching up rather well.

The subject's name was Lena Oxton, it was said that she had been a part of the organization for a while, but Angela did not think that the two had had the chance to meet before (which, as the head doctor, was often a good thing). Doctor Winston, the 600 lbs genetically modified gorilla that headed Overwatch's science division, had said that she was his very best friend. That didn't matter, of course, since someone that needed her help was all the justification that Angela would require to act, but it did help explain the predicament she was in.

Angela thought that she was a smart woman, and she often thought that her PHD's were a good enough means to justify that fact, but what Dr. Winston described had happened to Lena made the young woman feel far outside of her depth. As he had described, Lena was in an accident that involved an experimental aircraft which had somehow caused the English girl to become a singularity in their timeline. Although it used a formula that Angela had taken quite a while to grasp, the reason for the monitors in the room was because it calculated the erratic ebb and flow of time that Lena was experiencing. The machines connected to the chamber created a stable environment for her to survive in, but even with its assistance, it was not uncommon to see two very different things from the window and the display screen.

It was quite the strange phenomena to experience. To this poor girl, Angela was probably just a blur of a labcoat over a pair of blue scrubs, and from Angela's time working here, Lena was sometimes a blur inside the container, or stuck as still as a statue for hours at a time.

The erratic nature of the subject in the container was probably what made Angela's current observation so strange, for what seemed like the first time she had ever know it, the two views that she had of Lena Oxton were actually almost completely in sync.

After watching for long enough, Angela returned to her workstation and got back to work. Being with Overwatch often meant that Angela was on the very bleeding edge of science, it was a challenge most often, but one that she had welcomed. Her discoveries and invention of Nanobiotic medicine had revolutionized care overnight, there was no one else in the world that was better suited to assist in saving Lena. Much of what they were doing now was unknown territory, and so while Winston and his associates worked to cure Lena, it was Angela's job to find a means to make her medicine adjust to work with the woman's strange condition.

A while after observing simulations with Lena's bloodwork, Angela looked up again at the subject in the chamber. Oddly enough, the two images were still almost synchronized. Lena was sitting on her bead, bent over and staring down at the floor. Angela recognized that look, and she knew what had happened.

A little over a month after the accident, a notice was sent for Lena to inform her of her mother's passing. It was breast cancer, if the doctor recalled correctly. Angela could relate, both of her parents had been murdered when they were out simply trying to do good in the world. But the difference was that Angela was only seven years old at the time, it was her understanding that children can cope with trauma faster than adults. The organization tried to do their best, someone was sent to receive and record condolences on Lena's behalf, but still, her condition almost treated her like a convict in confinement.

It was at that moment that Angela noticed something. Beside the monitor was a secondary display, a crude device that used simple video recording symbols to approximate what Lena was experimenting inside of the chamber. Fast forward, pause, reverse, slow, it did its job and reported what it had calculated, but through it all, Lena was unmoving inside of the chamber, just sitting at the corner of her bed and looking down at her hands. Worry beginning to set in, Angela accessed the records on her workstation, and began going through the recordings captured inside the environment. What had amounted for a mere 20 hours in real time could translate into days inside of the chamber, and with each report she saw, Lena as still as a statue, not moving from her spot.

Panicking, Angela got up, ran to the window and looked in, confirming what she saw, and without a moment of hesitation, she ran for the containment door. Strapping a special emergency rebreather on, Angela swiped her emergency card through the reader, and queued the bulkhead to open.

Dr. Ziegler may not have fully understood all of what was going on inside of the chamber, and she would most likely be chastised for what she was about to do, but she didn't care. Regardless of what others may think, she knew one simple thing; pain is universal.

* * *

Lena Oxton sat on her cot, eyes red from crying, body deflated and drained of energy. In what she was told was a place where time had no meaning, she had given up on the world outside of her body. Her tears floated in the air, like diamonds hanging in the sky.

She had wanted to just fade away, and for what it was worth, she nearly had already. Even though she thought that she knew what suffering was, the news she had received had brought her down to a whole new world of torment. Although she was a prisoner in this cage, she never felt truly alone until she had gotten the news.

Now, with nothing left to lose, she was ready for it all to be done with. Sitting on her bedside, holding the photograph taken of her mother and her upon completion of her air force training, Lena waited for the end. She hadn't eaten in so long that she just didn't even feel the rot of hunger inside anymore. She didn't know how much the simple things hurt, to hug her mother one last time, to say goodbye, or even just to argue and fight like they had done countless times before, but it was all gone now, and Lena was left alone in this tiny box.

Somehow, she didn't know when or how, but darkness covered her. Thinking it was Death finally come to answer her call, She slowly looked up, but standing before her was something else entirely. Expecting a cloaked figure with a scythe at his side, Lena was almost surprised to see a woman standing in front of her. Well, as surprised as she could be, with no energy, excitement, tears left to cry or life to live, all she could do was look up at her uninvited guest with burning red eyes.

Lena, slowing down in time to normal levels, watched as the figure raised its arms and grabbed a hold of her head, pulling it into her chest and holding it there. Apathetic, Lena sat in the embrace, devoid of emotion or feeling as time slowed down, and she began to feel the stranger in her den.

"Hmmm," she thought, "tits." But, as she waited in the embrace, something broke through her dying mind. She felt it once, and then again, and again once more. Like a drum hiding beneath flesh and bone, she felt the hot beating of a heart, reaching through space and time and striking deep into her soul, to memories of her late mother, holding her in her arms as she cried into her chest like they had done countless times before.

It was… something, something that wasn't pain, or suffering, or the deep blade of loneliness that brought strength to her body, and revived the emotions that had been drowned in a sea of misery. Reaching her arms up, she wrapped herself tightly around this stranger and cried into her chest, screaming all of the pent up torment that she had tried to stuff away since she had learned of her mother's passing.

Dr. Ziegler wrapped her hands around her patient's head and held on as tightly as she could and allowed Lena to cry into her bosom, ignoring the pain as Lena's screams and supersonic vibrations left bruises that stretched deep within the doctor's tissue and fractured all of the ribs in her chest.


	3. Ch2 Moonage Daydream

Moonage Daydream

Years ago…

Nobody had anticipated that the Omnic crisis would actually end. But, to the rejoice of Humanity, the Omnics surrendered, and even if times were still tense, the populace was glad that nearly thirty years of warfare was finally over.

Still, that didn't mean that Overwatch was out of a job, far from it, now that open warfare was over. Their role in the world was more important than ever to control and dissolve conflicts before another great fight could begin. But, it also meant that the organization could relax for a while.

So, on October 31st of the first year after the end of the war, Overwatch's first Halloween party was held. A venue was picked, food supplied, and on the day of the event, a small pub at the base was closed to the public so that humanity's Heroes could have some well-deserved time off. The party was going off without a hitch. The pub was filled with paper bats hanging from the ceiling, cotton webs stretched across the bar, and green, purple, and orange lights were shining from the corners of the restaurant. Dr. Winston had unfortunately overindulged on candy and was forced to go home early, but besides that, things were going well.

Doctor Ziegler was in attendance at the party, her costume, consisting of her hair hanging down at her shoulders, a bonnet, an old style western dress with a rose on the side, and two toy revolvers hanging off belts along her waist, was easily recognized by her American colleagues as Annie Oakley. Besides indulging herself on a healthy dose of snacks and party favors, one thing at the venue held her attention much more than she had cared to mind.

Already an attraction to the bar, a microphone and stand was connected to a karaoke machine in the far corner of the bar. Like any other business day, the machine was available for use to the establishment's private patrons. Since she had arrived early to help prepare for the party, the machine had caught the Doctor's eye and the desire to use it began to tug at her mind. The party began, the thought to use it came back to her, but she refused to do so, being nervous what others may think about her being the first person up. Then, as the first brave (and inebriated) soul stepped up to give it a shot, a line had formed afterwards, and the doctor protested thinking that it was no use standing in line. Then, as it became shorter, she decided she would go up and give the machine a chance, but decided to not take up the space in case somebody else really wanted to use it.

Finally, as the night was winding down, the platform and stand had sat empty for the last half hour, with doctor Ziegler staring at it like a lovestruck teen as it stood there. Every time she gained the courage to shift her weight out of her seat, the more rational side of her mind held her in place.

In a flash, the seat next to her was pulled out, and like teleportation, Lena Oxton was in the seat next to her. Lena (or as her new codename went, "Tracer",) was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a plaid shirt under a jean jacket, which itself was under a puffy red vest. She had sunglasses and carried a skateboard with the wheels and axels removed wherever she went. Over all of it, though, was a bulky metal device that was strapped to her chest and back. On the face of it was a glowing blue light, a nuclear powered remedy to her chronological maladies.

"Are you havin' fun, luv?" she asked. Angela confirmed, reversing the question and getting the same response back, all the while slowly shifting her gaze away from the microphone. Lena looked around, trying to find what she was looking at, and found the machine sitting off in the corner of the room. "The Karaoke machine is open," she said, "wanna give it a go?"

Her mind was saying yes, but the sweat in her palms was saying otherwise, "Oh, no. It's quite alright. I was just thinking about it, but I shouldn't."

"Oh…" she said. She waited for a moment, then added. "I'd love to go up there, but I don't want to do it alone."

"Me too." Angela added, giving a nervous laugh to cap her statement.

"Good!" Lena exclaimed immediately, "then lets go together!" she grabbed ahold of Angela's hand, but the doctor braced herself against the table to resist.

"No, Lena, I… can't."

The brunette gave a smile, saying, "of course you can!"

Dr. Ziegler pulled her hand away, finally finding it in herself to admit the truth, "I'm… I'm nervous."

Lena sat back down, getting close to the blonde doctor and whispered, "Don't worry, luv. I'll be right there with you."

The other patrons in the bar were distracted in their own merrymaking as the two women approached the karaoke machine. Using a modified television remote, the two activated the machine and quickly began scrolling through the selection. Lena began to slowly scroll through the list of songs, sometimes to listen to the demo, others due to the delayed response from the old machine. All the while, she asked the Swiss doctor what she thought of the menu of music, and although any would do, there was one on her mind that had to be found.

Due to the order of the English alphabet, it was naturally near the bottom, but it still didn't change the doubt that Angela had lost faith that it would be there. But, causing her heart to flutter, it was there. Credited to Olivia Newton John and John Travolta, from the Soundtrack of _Grease_, "You're the One that I Want."

Without sampling the selection, Angela told Lena that it was the one. The pilot selected it, and the speakers in their corners of the bar activated. The song began, and two lines of lyrics, one pink and one blue, appeared on the screen. Startled, Dr. Ziegler quickly asked her friend, "oh, what line do I follow?"

To which Lena quickly responded, "Do whatever one you want."

And so, the track began. The machine mixed the audio, playing the background instrumentals, and since the song was a duet, whatever line it did not detect an input from the microphone for, it used the original voice to fill in. Even though it may have felt like a decade had passed for the young doctor, three minutes and twelve seconds later, it was over. In the bar, those who were still aware enough to understand the noise in the background turned their focus over to the women up at the mic stand and gave a round of applause as they finished. Through shaky and drunken fingers, some even whistled for the performance.

Heart racing and face red, Angela returned to her spot at the table with Lena at her side. Although adrenaline was pumping, she was happy and glad that she had finally done it. "You did great, luv!" Lena complimented the doctor. Wiping sweat from under her hat, Angela thanked her for the compliment, and returned it in kind. But, upon hearing that she had performed well in return, Lena sat back in her chair with a smirk on her face, knowing that her next words would make the combat medic become as pale as a ghost, "I don't know what you're talkin' about. I just stood next to you the whole time."

* * *

_Present Day, Oasis,_

After the Omnic crisis, the world was finally allowed to rebuild. Places that had been devastated took the time to clean up, start with a blank slate, and then grow to new heights. One of those places was the new citystate of Oasis. What had once been the outskirts of Baghdad, Iraq was now an intellectual powerhouse, a city made to be the cutting edge of science and ingenuity situated in the eastern hemisphere.

With the reconstruction, corporations were the ones who had the most to gain, their stores and shops sliding into place like pieces of a puzzle in the newly constructed cities. One such corporate outreach, Bee'sKnee's, a restaurant styled to look like a hometown grill, was only partially occupied on the lazy Saturday. As was corporate custom, the establishment was decorated with sports memorabilia, mainly photographs and jerseys of the Iraqi Olympic Football team, as well as those of school and other junior sports teams. The day shift was preparing for the afternoon, dishes were being washed, and servers were working to memorize the specials for the day when a troop of ten women arrived at the front door.

Quickly, the hostess had another server combine three tables together in the restaurant and seated their guests. The women, mostly middle aged and older, all wearing athletic wear, began to go over the menu and ordered cocktails. The women kept chatting to themselves, when finally one of the last two members of their party arrived.

Dr. Angela Ziegler arrived and immediately saw the group of her friends on the other end of the restaurant. She approached the table and took a seat at one of the two open chairs. The group kept conversing, waiting for the final member. The conversation mainly being about their badminton league and games they had completed previously in the league. The group was comprised of women of a certain caliber. Angela was one of two doctors, one dentist, two lawyers, three accountants, two secretary, a teacher, and one housewife. Angela was never the social type, but it was good to take time away from the hospital and laboratory to enjoy herself with likeminded people, and she never could pass up a chance to play badminton, even if she lost every game.

But then, like clockwork, she heard the same tired question she seemed to get every time she would go out with her friends.

"Dr. Ziegler, have you found yourself a man yet?"

The question was followed by a chorus of cackles. Although thirty years old, Angela was among one of the youngest at the table, and even though the answer to that question was complex -to say the least-, the lack of a ring around her finger was an invitation to ridicule.

And so, acting on auto pilot, she endured, only half listening to the women around her as they offered unwanted advances of advice as the well as the marital prospect of their sons, nephews, and stepsons. It was almost sickening, some of the most disrespectful and passive aggressive things that she had ever heard made the rounds towards her, but what truly stunned her was where it was coming from. It wasn't the cigar smoking and cognac swirling patriarch like the world had made her expect it to be, but instead from women who were supposed to be her peers. The drunken advances and hysterics of men and boys with adrenaline coursing through their veins as they were injected with 10 mg of morphine to the bloodstream were childish when compared to the loud suggestion on how to dress, what eyeshadow to wear, or when to smile ever were.

The thing that hurt the worst, though, was that they weren't necessarily wrong. Angela had made a decision a very long time ago to sacrifice her social life to further her studies, and with as far as she has gone, just trading it away wasn't an option. Unlike these women, she had seen the worst the world had to offer, it was clear that she was needed in it.

Angela slowly slid her gaze into her menu, blocking out the peanut gallery as they shifted their focus off of her and onto each other. The doctor dismissed it all with a silent chuckle, considering the hilarity of the situation. Nothing said marriage material to a multi-hundred-millionaire who held multiple doctorates and volunteered in one of the bloodiest conflicts the world had ever seen than a shy unemployed young man living in his parents' basement that relied on their mother to get them a date.

There was that word again… marriage. Like a pane of glass breaking, the mere thought of it cleared the doctor's head and brought the creeping dark back to the forefront of her mind.

It had been a while since the late night phone call with Lena that brought the inevitability of what was about to happen. After taking a while to think of it, Angela had sent the two a gift, it should have reached them by now. Still, she really should have taken the time to call Lena and hopefully clear the air between the two of them.

Lena was gay. Even before she knew it for sure, Angela had the feeling it was true. She didn't hate her for it, on the contrary, she was happy that Lena had someone to confide in. Even when she received the announcement letter of their marriage, Angela was happy for the two of them. But there was one problem brewing that would need to be addressed; Angela was a devout catholic.

Angela didn't think of it as a sin, nor that the church thought of it as such, and if they wanted to be bonded by the laws of man, then so be it, she would not stop them. But that was marriage, not a wedding. Angela may have thought of marriage as a holy union, but if they were intent of moving God out of the equation, then so be it, wouldn't mind or protest their choice. But the wedding symbolized the union of man and woman granted before God, the process meant to join the two before the Lord and receive blessing from his vessel. To take part in such a ceremony without this understanding would be sacrilegious and insult to the lord and the life Angela has followed.

She would grant them her best wishes, they could live their lives and be happy, but there was a line she would not cross. She had to stand her ground on this, all that she had sacrificed, all she had gone through, she couldn't just pick and choose what tenets she would follow. For the sake of herself, for her parents, for all of the terrible things that had happened during the Omnic Crisis, she had to believe that there was meaning behind it all. She refused to believe otherwise.

After all, this wasn't the first time she had dealt with _the alphabet people_. She had learned the hard way about what happens with the people who saw her faith as a target on her back. A few years ago, the Canadian women's football team was playing against the French when the star stinger for Canada, Destinee Rollins, tore her Achilles tendon. The dire nature of the injury, as well as the importance of the monumental matchup, caused the paramedics and trainers to go for the nanobiotic mister to apply aid to the player. Angela Ziegler's miracle medicine, which had revolutionized care on the battlefield and caused a dramatic decrease in casualties during the Omnic Crisis, did as it was designed and healed the debilitating injury, but that wasn't all that it had done. Nanobiotics replicate DNA to reproduce and replace damaged flesh, and biologically, Destinee Rollins was male.

The event caused controversy, and although Dr. Ziegler hadn't been aware of what had happened, she was eventually interviewed on her perspective, and more importantly, her invention. Not seeing it as much more than the previous times she had been interviewed over Nanobiotics, she answered inquires as they came using the cold detachment of medical science.

Little did she know, a rainbow colored Pandora 's Box had just been opened. Days later, the people in the medical research center that she worked were giving her funny looks and talking behind her back, it wasn't until someone finally broke the ice that she learned what had happened. Opportunists and activists had smeared her. Overnight, she had become worse than Herta Oberheuser, a transphobic Jesus Freak and Ex member of the technofascist organization that was Overwatch, calls and complaints were being made to hospitals that she had worked at in the past, petitioners were attempting to have her medical license revoked, and she had been added as a person of interest in two hate-watch groups. One frantic call to her lawyer later, and she was instructed to stay calm and wait it out. Two weeks later, the new outrage fuel was over a journalist who overheard a mechanic talking about a car engine and thought that it was a personal attack, so the swarm of vitriol around her dissipated. But, she had learned from her experiences. It was strange to think that after all she had gone though, killer robots corrupted by a Super Artificial Intelligence wasn't the only thing that she had to fear in this world. Then again, that was the way of life for the people who gave celebrity status to 20th century despots who would have probably sent them off to hard labor and reeducation camps. It made sense in their mind to demanded tolerance for themselves while denying it for anyone they disagreed with.

But, with all of that being said, Lena wasn't one of those people. Lena was a friend, and even if she didn't believe it, Angela truly wished that she was happy and understood what she was doing.

Angela was awoken from her daydream as the final member of their party arrived. A slightly portly woman took the seat on the far end of the table. Her name was Sandy Williams, the wife of a dentist in Oasis, but one look at her made the doctor second guess if that was the case anymore. While the other women around the table wore different variations of athletic wear -afterall, they had just come from their badminton league-, her top was just a simple black t-shirt. No matter what technological wonders and incredible structures were built around Oasis, nobody could ever beat the heat of the sun, which had piqued Angela's interest as to why one of the other women in their league would decide to wear something that would garner all of the sun's wrath for the hours that they were outside, but now she understood why. Sitting at attention, with her chest out while trying to act as if the posture was normal, all at the table took the time to read the words that were printed across the front.

"I'm (not) with stupid."

Immediately, someone on the opposite side of the table asked the obvious question, "Oh, did you finalize your divorce?"

"Yep," she said, eyes slightly closed as a means to hide how excited she was at all of the attention, "We signed the papers yesterday. He thinks the prenup is going to work," she said, adding a smirk, "He's got another thing coming."

Angela felt sick, but a bit of schadenfreude as well. After all, Sandy had stated once before that she had stolen her now ex-husband away from his previous wife after working as a secretary at his office. Marriage wasn't supposed to be a game, nor a fashion that people could just trade up when something better came around. The oath they made at their wedding was supposed to be eternal, their bond had meaning. Their union bringing their families together and bonding them with the purpose of creating new life. The ceremony wasn't supposed to be a personal prom nor a childish pinkyswear.

But, from Angela's perspective, this was her comeuppance. Poetic Justice as it went, that she who had stolen a man away from his wife was now being discarded for a younger version of herself. She may have claimed victory with the cheap custom shirt stretched across her fake breasts, but there was definitely envy and regret hiding within.

For ironic as it was, these two really were perfect for each other. People were truly disgusting. Angela hid the roll to her eyes as she ordered a water and let the conversations die down.


	4. Ch 3 The Man who Sold the World

The Man who Sold the World

_London, Present._

The night was cool and small rain puddles from earlier in the afternoon splashed up as Lena Oxton ran down the pavement of the sidewalk. She wore long athletic leggings and a long sleeve shirt, but the only thing that would grab anyone's attention was the bulky glowing metal device that was strapped to her chest. It was good to get out and stretch her legs after a long day. After all, being in the driver's seat of a helicopter every day didn't necessarily give one the chance to stretch out too often, but more importantly, now that she was out of work, it was good to not have to hide the Chrono Accelerator underneath a baggy zip up sweater.

It was strange, like hiding in a cocoon every day and hatching from it every night, but for the money and the hours, she couldn't really complain. On the contrary, although not necessarily anatomically correct, the big bulky device hiding underneath the baggy zip-up used to make the lads at the office almost think she was pregnant, and kept them all at bay for a while. Almost as like she had already been taken.

Taken…

Well, there was no use in pretending anymore, in a few weeks, she finally would be. It was hard to really grasp it all, but it was true. It had been so much work to get to this point, but it was almost over, and then a new chapter in her life would begin.

It was at that moment that Lena's mind drifted over to her other bother, Angela. It had been awhile since she had called her. For as much as Lena wanted to sit in a room and stare angrily at the phone until she called, her life was just too busy to do that. So, she had to put it on the backburner and slowly forget about it while she contended with work and last minute wedding planning.

Emilee may have been right, maybe she should try to call again and apologize for confronting her about this and try again, but still, she was disappointed that the doctor hadn't given her the courtesy of a call yet. Even if she had hoped that she was wrong, she had an inkling that Angela would be a problem, which is saying something when one of her guest was going to be a genetically modified gorilla. Still, it didn't make it any less frustrating.

Lena arrived at her apartment building and immediately went to the block of mailboxes on the wall beside the entrance. Finding hers, she opened it and saw that it was already empty. That meant one thing, that Emilee was already home. The English woman closed the box and made her way to the elevator and hit the button for the correct floor.

The first sign of trouble came after the announcement of their engagement. Angela and Lena had risked their lives for each other countless times during their service in Overwatch. It was natural for Lena to give Angela the honor of standing by her side at the altar. Still, Lena didn't know why she was surprised when Angela declined. Granted, she was now living in a place far away, and she should have known that a high caliber doctor like Angela would have a very busy schedule. But, with the more it was brought up, the more uncomfortable things would get. She should have known that the regrets would be coming, but she needed to know it for sure, to hear it from the doctor herself for it to be right. She just… she didn't think that Angela would act like such a diva over it all.

Lena tried to be on her best behavior, Emilee had warned her that escalating the situation would only make it worse. Sure, Lena had tipped more than her fair share of fedoras in her youth, and debating over the Flying Spaghetti Monster was her favorite pastime in her angsty teen years, but Angela was also a friend and she couldn't forget that. The urge to chastise her over her silly book and beliefs wasn't going to win in the end, but Lena needed to find a way to show how important this was. She just couldn't figure out why the doctor couldn't see that Lena wanted her there to share in one of the most important days of her life with her new fiancée. She just didn't think that, of all people, Angela would be so… hateful.

She shook her head. No, that wasn't the right word for it. Lena knew what hatred was. If Angela truly hated her for what she was, she wouldn't have gone out of her way to help her, rescue her, heal her and comfort her when she was in pain over all of these years. She wanted her to be at the wedding, as an act of honor and respect for all that they had been through over all of these years. Didn't she see that?

Lena didn't really know what to call it. For as smart as Angela was, she was just so… backwards.

The elevator door opened, and Lena exited out to the hall and walked until the door to the flat was in sight. She stopped in the middle of the hall when she noticed the door to the residence was opened a quarter of the way. She thought about it for a moment, alarmed at the oddity, and slowly snuck her way to the opening. The only other time she remembered Emilee leaving the door open like that was when she snuck outside to have a fag.

Adjacent to the doorway, Lena's eyes shot wide open when she recognized the sound of Emilee sobbing inside. Not sure what to expect, Lena slowly pushed the door open and stepped in.

The lights were on, the home was still in the same condition that she had left it in before going out on her run, and Emilee's shoes were set beside the door. Everything looked fine, and Lena slowly followed the sound of Emilee's voice into the kitchen. There, she saw her fiancée.

Emilee was a thin woman, although raised in England, she had Irish ancestry, present from the freckles across her face. She had short auburn hair, and having just gotten home from work, she was still in a white blouse and a pencil skirt. The oven was on and leftovers were sitting on the stove, waiting to go in when the temperature was right before she had gotten distracted by something. As she was now, Emilee was leaning against the counter with a cellphone up to her ear.

As Lena had heard, Emilee was sobbing, one hand on the phone while the other was against her mouth, muffling her cries. Her cheeks were red as tears rolled down from her eyes.

"No… Papa, You don't have to… She wouldn't want you to give it away…"

There was a response, and then Emilee shuttered as she smothered another sob with her hand.

"You can be there, it's not too long now. George, Garret… I'm sure they can all help you when you need to get going. Please, it would mean so much to me…"

Emilee looked up, seeing Lena standing in the kitchen. She wiped her eyes and gave a silent acknowledgement that she was there, but didn't speak. It was then that Lena noticed that their mail was spread out on the table. As always, Emilee had sorted it into neat piles, wedding things in one pile, bills in another, junk in another, and even a letter for Lena in another, but what grabbed her attention was an opened box and message that was closest to Emilee.

Emilee left the room, retreating to the laundry room and leaving Lena in the kitchen. Without hesitation, Lena took a seat at the table and inspected the box.

What she first saw were two matching jewelry cases, one was opened, and inside of it was a solid golden ring. Spread open with the package was a piece of paper, it read;

"Little Emmie,

When the fog around my memory lifts, I think of you and how much you remind me of your grandmother. She would have just been beside herself when the news came that you were finally getting married. I think of Suzie, and it reminds me of a promise she made me make a long time ago, and so before my mind fades again, I must give this to you.

After the accident, your grandmother made me promise to make sure that you received our rings on the day of your wedding. She would have wanted you to have this, just as her grandmother had done before her, and her grandmother before her.

How I wish that she were still here, to see you on your special day, to see you in your dress, as beautiful as the sun rising over Cliffs of Moher. I wish from the bottom of my heart that my old eyes could see for one last time, to watch you walk down that aisle like your mother and grandmother before.

Love you always and forever,

Papa. "

Done with her phonecall, Emilee reentered the kitchen. Immediately, Lena stood and embraced her soon-to-be spouse. The two held each other for several minutes, Emilee explaining what her grandfather had done, and Lena listening, even if she already knew. Having finally consoled her girlfriend, the two kissed. Emilee stated that she was going to get changed, but before going off to do so, she mentioned that there was mail for Lena. So, as Emilee left the room, Lena took a seat once more and took ahold of the letter that was addressed to her.

* * *

_Years earlier…_

"Spread your legs, please."

Lena, like a soldier at attention, did as commanded. Through all of the time that she had been laying breadcrumbs, trying to slowly cut away at Dr. Ziegler's independence and morals, she could never image that the Doctor could be so… upfront about something like this.

Sitting on top of a line of sinks in the restroom in a nightclub, Lena spread her legs out, allowing Dr. Ziegler to get closer and inspect her charge. Lena could joke and pry at the doctor as much as she wanted, most of it was lighthearted and fun, but that didn't change the underlying feeling that she had for her. Call her simple, but the truth of the matter was that Lena was just another one of the lads when it came to Dr. Ziegler. If being hypnotized by something tall, busty, leggy and blonde was a crime, then Lena was guilty as charged.

Nearly face to face, Lena was having trouble looking the doctor in the eye as they got closer and closer, but then jolted away as pain from her nose shot across her body.

"Hmmm… it definitely seems your nose is broken." Angela, gloves on her hands, turned her attention to her purse, rummaging through the items to find a bottle of pills and pouring four out, but then placing one back.

Peace talks were always so boring. Sure, it was better to make peace and not war, but having to stand around as bureaucrats wheeled and dealed the last details of an agreement was mind numbing to Lena. So, after one long day, Lena made plans to go out to a local club and let off some steam.

It was kind of funny in a way. The Chrono Accelerator could generate the same amount of power as a small nuclear reactor, but as long as nobody saw her perform a time blink or any of her other special abilities, people thought it was some sort of gaudy techno noir costume. Anyway, she happened to be breaking loose on the dancefloor when some pompous jerk flailed around too much, and then elbow met face.

After having recovered from the shock of pain, Lena took the offered pills as Angela sopped up the blood with a sanitary towel. "Well, why don't we just stuff a rag up there and go back out?"

"Don't be preposterous." She said, "there's no need to rush this. You'll regret it if it swells too much."

Lena nodded in silent agreement, but knew that there was more to it. Lena didn't want to go out alone, and at one point, it looked like everyone was going to say no, but on round two of asking around if anybody wanted to go out with her, Angela had reluctantly said yes. So, Lena wearing a miniskirt and ripped top and Angela wearing slacks and a sleeveless vest, the two went out to a nightclub and got to work. But, Lena felt a little uneasy on the inside. She wanted to go out and have some fun, but Angela just seemed content to sit at a table like she was too afraid to move. From the look of things, Lena was half expecting the doctor to start griefing her for wanting to go out and have a good time. Lena had left her behind at the table and had half expected her to have gone back to the hotel when she stepped off the floor after getting thwacked on the nose.

It was no surprise to Lena that Angela kept a miniature pharmacy in her purse. She was definitely one of _those_ girls, the type that has a pill or rub for every ache, pain, clench or cramp, but still, sitting here like this was a little too awkward for her. She thought of something to break up the awkwardness and then said, "I see you were still talking to that one guy at the table. He looked pretty cute. I don't want to keep you away if you want to go back."

Angela rolled her eyes as she prepared her operation, "Don't worry," Angela said with a sigh, "I was looking for a way to get out of that conversation, anyway."

"Oh, really, what's the deal then?"

Angela gave a chuckle before saying, "I told him I was a nursing student and he was trying to get my phone number. He couldn't stop talking about himself. He apparently spends all day playing videogames and has people watch him for money. I don't think he caught the hint that it wasn't interesting at all."

"Ugh," Lena began, "What a nerd. Why didn't you try to get away? You know, use the dancefloor to lose him?

Angela sighed, "I've never really been to something like this before, I just… I didn't really know what to do."

"_oh great, here comes the grief._" Lena thought, before saying, "Oh, come on, you can't tell me you haven't gone out dancing before!"

Angela, now slowly beginning to apply alcohol to Lena's nose and cleaning out the nostril, confessed, "Well, I suppose there was a small holiday party once at the church near my boarding school when I was attending. Some boys from the local area were there as well. But, beyond that, no."

The statement made Lena quiet down for a bit, allowing the doctor to tend to her throbbing nose. She couldn't remember when she had learned it, but Lena knew that Angela was a Catholic. She would never admit it, but it made her on edge at times, thinking that she would do something or say something that would spark a confrontation. Sure, she was ready for that, but like ICBM's, her jabs and counterpoints stayed locked away in their silos, waiting to be used. She didn't want to fight, but at the same time, she felt that there was something that she needed to ask. "Doc, do you mind me asking you something?"

"Of course," she answered, slowly beginning to rub Lena around the bridge of her nose, causing small jolts of pain as the doctor worked out the break.

"How do you justify doing… this, you know? Going out and being a doctor when the church's teaching would have you be barefoot and pregnant?"

Angela, not interrupting her motions, answered, "Well, it's complicated. But I think I know how to describe it to you. There was a joke I heard someone say once. I don't really understand it all, but it goes like this; A man and his family lived in an area that was about to experience a flood. They received an evacuation notice, but he declined, saying 'the Lord provides'."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. The emergency workers try to get them out but he says no, men with boats come and he refuses, and finally when the water is so high that they're sitting on the rooftop and a helicopter comes to rescue them, he still says The Lord provides."

"Yes, that one." She confirmed, stroking slower and harder.

"You do realize that the man and his family die in the end, right? And that his faith was misplaced and that God sent the rescue, right?"

"Yes. That is correct." She began to push her fingers hard against the swollen tissue around Lena's nose, causing the pilot to wince as she tried to pay attention.

"So, what does that mean for you, then?"

"Simple," Angela answered. In that moment, she jerked her hands to the side, moving the bridge of Lena's nose and resetting the entire structure with a sickening crack. Sitting on the sink, Lena doubled over in pain as her airway cleared. She held her nose, catching the escaping blood from her reopened septum as the smell of alcohol filled her nostril. Cleaning her patient up, Angela finished, "The Lord provides."

* * *

Present…

It had been a long day, and as soon as Angela had gotten home, the shoes went off and hair tie went with it.

It was late, and although tired, it wasn't time for bed yet. She walked around the living room and turned on the lamps before taking a seat at the large sofa. The lamps lit the room, but kept it dim and allowed the shadows to stretch across the ceiling in a warm, calming glow.

Angela's couch was of a cream color and made from leather. Stationed before it was a wooden coffee table and a television in an entertainment center. The couch had a curve to it, bending it 90 degrees on one end while the other side had a seat that extended out around the other side of the table. The furniture store representative had convinced her that it was the best piece for a casual gathering or conversation. Sadly, in all of its life, the couch had never seated more than one person, but that didn't mean that it wasn't as comfy as described.

Angela slipped her legs over the couch and lay across the seats, resting her head propped up against the throw pillows at the curve of the couch. She could have turned on the TV, but at this point in the night she wasn't interested in flipping through channels in search of something to watch, especially when she had something else in mind.

Reaching into her black dress slacks, she pulled out her phone and opened the internet. Signing into Viewtube, she checked her recommendations and saw exactly what she was looking for. Lying on her couch, Angela began to feel the slight onset of hunger in her body. It was inevitable, she was forced to have a late lunch, and although she wanted to rest, having a full meal would be too much. To her fortune, she knew that there was a leftover gyro in her fridge. Surely that would work, but not just yet.

The video box opened, and the channel name as well as the title of the video read across the top as the teaser image loaded. When done, the title read, "Cassowaries are modern Velociraptors, by Wheelchair Zoologist". At first, it showed a blank white screen, while in the corner a very young man wearing a baseball hat appeared. As the video started, a line began to move on the blank screen, slowly beginning to draw an image, and so the man in the corner began to speak, "Standing at six foot six inches tall and having three razor sharp claws, you'd think that the Cassowary is much more dangerous than it actually is. My name is Mark Ramirez, and I am the Wheelchair Zoologist." The image then changed to the channel's logo while showing nature footage of the bird that would be the focus of the video.

Angela had changed the world overnight when she had completed and presented her research in nanobiotic medicine, it gave a much needed relief to humanity, who had already spent decades in the midst of the Omnic Crisis, seeing nothing but hard fought battles, casualties, and deliberating injuries from men and women in conflict zones around the world. But, now that the crisis was over, it was time to do more, and extend the reach of her gift to the world.

Snow Leopards, after seeing a resurgence in the early 21st century, were on the decline once more. Poachers had been hunting the great cats for their exotic and mesmerizing coats. The doctor had been unaware of the emergency until happening across a news article of conservation officers in Russia fighting to save one of the Leopards that had been wounded from poachers, but failed as there simply wasn't enough resources or knowledge in field to prevent it from succumbing to its wounds.

So, with a cleared schedule, and nobody else with a solution in mind, Dr. Ziegler stepped up to the plate and offered a remedy to the issue.

The blank picture in the background of the video began to fill with the long image of a stalk, taking form as a cursor darted around and began to detail the leg. The narrator began to speak once more, "Before a cassowary is born, the male is the one who incubates and cares for the eggs, for the female takes off and leaves a single dad to do the child rearing. Baby cassowary won't even recognize mom if they happen to meet…" the host looked away, showing an exaggerated expression of regret, adding, "… Can relate."

Dr. Ziegler's solution was much easier said than done. Although most of the groundwork for Nanobiotic medicine was already laid out, it only worked on humans and some species of ape. The technology was costly in a general sense, but the real struggle came from testing and researching the animal's genetic code. Simply injecting the medicine into a specimen was difficult for a variety of reasons. The most obvious being that simply adding a human based growth stimulant into a feline could be incredibly toxic. The second difficulty came from the simple truth that Angela didn't have as easy of access to test subjects as before. During the Omnic crisis, cadavers were readily available, and labs from around the world could reliably supply her with genetic samples to test variances in the human genome, but with an illusive animal with less than 200 specimens alive in the wild, it wasn't easy to test her findings.

The image changed from the host and the drawing to high resolution nature footage of a brown bird about the size of a chicken standing beneath its much larger blue father. Angela brought a hand to her mouth as she gasped at the cute little bird. "Baby cassowaries are incredibly playful and will follow their father around for about nine months, copying him and actually playing hide and seek in the rainforest every now and then."

Angela had already known what skeptics or critics would say, why waste so much effort on an animal when humans may be suffering from something different elsewhere? Why not this animal or that species? Why not try to develop another method or a completely subversive solution to the problem of poaching? People could lecture and prostrate or patronize as much as they liked, but she did what she wanted to do, and to those who were looking for help to save these wounded animals, she was sure they would be grateful for the assistance.

"They are the second heaviest of all flightless birds, second only to the Ostridge. Their natural habitat is the rainforests of northern Australia and Papua New Guinea. "

Angela kept watching the presentation while lying on her couch, her joints and extremities relaxing and sinking into the cushions as the furniture supported her weight. When she started researching into the Snow Leopard, she requested information from veterinarians, conservationists, and traditional resources. But, absorbing a mass amount of resources could take quite a long time, and as she just happened to look on the internet one day, there was a much quicker means to absorb the broad details of the subject. Still, after starting on this new project, she did not expect to be so entertained by watching a handicapped man that was only half her age talk about exotic animals that she had never heard of before on Viewtube.

The video showed one of the adult birds bend over and pick up a large blue berry on the ground, and then straightened its throat out and swallowed the large fruit, causing a lump as it left its beak. "Their primary food source is fruit, namely, the Cassowary Berry." Angela watched the display, and realized that she herself was getting hungry, so she may as well start warming up dinner.

She rose from the couch and entered her kitchen, as expected, the takeout box was waiting for her on the center rack of the refrigerator. She was about to pull it out when a thought occurred to her. She had been experiencing a craving, an idea rolling around in the back of her mind of something she wanted, but through better judgement or the struggle of the day, it had been sidelined by the time she was home. Standing in front of her fridge, she thought about it, and as she considered it more and more, it almost seemed as if the stars had aligned.

She closed the fridge and walked to the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. Turning both ways to make sure nobody was watching, she opened it up and pulled out a tall beer glass.

Returning to her fridge, she opened the freezer and pulled out a vat of ice cream. Returning to the compartment below, she opened the door and pulled out a bottle of chocolate sauce, and most importantly, a bottle of Coke.

Like genetics, it's the duty of a mother to pass down their family traditions to their daughters. Sadly, due to the tragedy in her life, Angela didn't have much of that luxury, but at the same time, but there was still one recipe that she had learned from her mother.

Uncapping the chocolate syrup, he poured a small dose of the chocolate into the glass cup, only stopping once the bottom was filled. Next, she opened up the tub of vanilla ice cream, almost completely untouched except for a small corner where a big scoop was missing. Using a spoon, she scooped out peels of vanilla and dropped it into the glass, the white fragments dotted with vanilla beans standing against each other and reaching up towards the rim of the glass. When done, she stuck the spoon in the glass and resealed the ice cream and chocolate sauce before returning them to their respective parts of the fridge.

Finally, she took the bottle of coke and twisted the cap off. What she had in her hands was not a generic bottle of Coca Cola. Instead of the recycled plastic and glued on sticker bottles that inhabited vending machines and drink coolers at every grocery store and cafeteria, what she had was the genuine article, the holy grail of softdrinks, the luxury sports car to the economy class minivan; genuine cane sugar, classic recipe Coca Cola from Mexico.

Part of the benefit of global trade, the glass bottle was cold to the touch, a much better conductor and insulator than a thin plastic bottle. The metal bottle cap, even if it was much more wasteful than the plastic reusable one of a modern bottle, felt more substantial and reliable than its modern peer. The crisp passage of carbonation and quick influx of air after the breach of its stamped seal itself was part of the experience as it's contents were readied to be consumed.

The bottle opened, and like a magical brew, the dark brown concoction within began to bubble. The warm air of the apartment rushed into the bottle, and upon reaching the insulated cold of its insides, began to fog up the clear glassware. The doctor let the beverage breathe for a moment, and soon afterwards tipped it in, filling the beer glass up with the dark nectar. There probably was a number of reasons why this specific drink was market as being from Mexico, specifically, the ingredients, recipe, or container. Although she treated it like a luxury item, the truth was that it wasn't much more expensive than its more generic counterpart; being a little less than a dollar more. Still, even if it didn't cost much more, the taste was exponentially better. With her concoction filled, Angela looked at the bottle, and saw that there was still a good portion leftover at the bottom, just at the thinnest point of the bottle's curve. Like finding a parking meter with time leftover on it, Angela's eyes lit up at the surplus in the bottle. Giving no heed to the idea of a diet, Angela brought the bottle to her lips and began to tilt.

Just like she had seen, the concoction was incredibly cold, but at the same time, the electric bubbling and snappy taste on her tongue felt shocking, almost warm to a degree. The rich coca flavor was mesmerizing and intriguing, her mind wondered how such a complex thing could even exist. The formula of taste on her tongue didn't even feel like it was of this earth, that the urban legend that the secret recipe was divided and protected by only two members of the Coca Cola board of directors was just a cover story for the fact that the real combination was actually found in the temple of an ancient civilization, and gifted to homo sapiens from benevolent visitors from the stars.

Glass filled with ice cream and coca cola, Angela put her spoon in and added a red and white striped straw to the mix, making it almost picture-worthy.

The video on her phone, which she hadn't been paying attention to, abruptly went quiet. Walking across the room, Angela looked on the screen, and as soon as she made eye contact, the face lit up, explaining the sudden interruption. She had a call waiting, and the name above the incoming number was Lena Oxton.

Dr. Ziegler took a quick breath to collect herself. Undoubtedly, Lena must have received her letter and this was going to be the rebound call. Hopefully, this time they could have a more productive conversation than last time.

She answered the call and put the phone up to her ear. "Hello,"

"Hi." The response went, but instead of a curt greeting, it felt more like an accusation, like whoever was on the other side of the phone was going to throw a punch through the speaker somehow. There was another voice on the line, someone else trying to butt in on the conversation but was being cut out. "So, you thought this would work, huh. Just trying to sneak your way out of this, huh?!"

Angela was confused, "Lena, I… what's going on?"

"Don't you try to play 'round with me. I got your letter today. The one with five large."

There was an interruption, the mysterious person on the line was repeating, "Lena, give me the phone. Lena!" but there was a hypersonic pop, a rush of air and then the sound of someone running. Angela always had a hard time understanding slang in the English language, so it took her the moment of struggle on the opposite side of the phone to puzzle together what Lena had been inferring to. Thinking quickly, she realized what she was referring to was indeed the letter she had sent, and "five large" must have been the check she had sent to the two newlyweds. Angela, due to her practice, was quite wealthy, and to be honest, she wasn't familiar with things like this. So she thought that it would have been a generous gift and hopefully would show that she cared.

Reality seemed to dictate otherwise, though.

Person #2 sounded like she was talking down a hallway, and then was cut off by an elevator closing. Soon after, Lena was back on the line. "So did you wrack that big brain of yours yet!" she demanded.

"Lena, I don't understand what's going on. Please,-"

"The check, you stupid twat!" she shouted.

The words cut like a knife, Angela, alone in her apartment, took a step back to collect herself. "Yes, what's wrong?"

"You gave me five thousand dollars!"

Angela sat in silence for a moment, thinking about what was going on, and then finally asked, "…Did I not write enough zeroes?"

Like an erupting volcano, the response was enough to shake the apartment, "I didn't want you sodding money! I wanted you!"

"I… I…" A tear welled up in the doctor's eye, her brain mixing languages together as she tried to figure out what to say next, but kept getting mumbled over how her very best intentions could be taken so poorly.

Before there was any more vitriol, it sounded like the elevator doors opened, and the mysterious third person was there. "Lena, give me the phone before you do something you-" there was another hypersonic pop and rush of air, the sound of Lena using her singularity powers to blink through her place in time and space. "Lena!" the stranger called out.

After a while of what sounded like running, the commotion stopped. What was left was the sound of Lena breathing into the phone. Trying to take initiative, Angela opened up by saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

Although still angered, but not explosively shouting, Lena replied, "Well, it doesn't matter anymore. You can cross the check out, because I'm gonna rip it in half."

Like a stake through her heart, Angela felt the pain as she slowly lowered herself onto her couch, her legs feeling weak at what she was hearing. "Please… You don't need to do that."

The mysterious stranger was approaching once more, saying something about "waking up the neighbors", but Angela couldn't really hear what she had to say. Regardless, Lena gave a quick response before hanging up the phone. "You don't have to come anymore. If you can't stand the sight of us, then go ahead and stay home, because I'm sorry I ever thought I wanted to have you here!"

The line was dead, but Angela sat for a moment listening to nothing. Slowly, she brought the phone down to her lap and watched the screen, tapping it to keep it awake as it would slowly fade to darkness and then return with a flick of a finger. She waited, thinking that Lena would call again, not sure if she wanted to talk more or not, but after ten minutes, it seemed that nobody was calling.

Then the thought occurred to her that maybe now it was her turn to try her hand at resolving the conflict. She tapped on her phone to see Lena in her contacts, but her finger hesitated before she could call. Why would she call her? She didn't even know what to say. Would she just sit there and take the abuse once again, or would she stand up, making the whole ordeal even worse? She didn't know what to do.

She began to pace, walking back to her kitchen when she saw the Coke Float resting on her counter. She gave it a longing look, but then turned away. The frosty treat would stay there overnight, untouched till morning when the doctor would rinse the soupy mess down the sink and throw the straw away.


	5. ch4 Oh! You Pretty Things

Oh! You Pretty Things

It always took people a while to get used to the pungent and sterile stench of the air within a hospital, but for Dr. Ziegler and her compatriots, they had spent so long here that the lack of the smell was more alarming. Sitting in her "new" office, Dr. Ziegler was behind her desk, the room was confined and cramped and the tack board behind it filled with impaled notes made for a confusing and incomprehensible mess, but it had to be done. Her real office was in the middle of renovations, so she had to substitute with this one until she could move back, but she didn't really mind.

All was fine at the moment; previously in the day, she had been checking up on the victim of the chemical accident that had occurred at the beginning of the month. After fearing that his life was over from such a dire injury at the plant, things were looking well for the almost-amputee. The operation had allowed her to rectify the damage done from the accident, and after the checkup, it looked to be that the wounds were healing properly and all motor functions would return to normal. Sure, it was disgusting and delicate work to be a surgeon, and people could joke about her reattaching penises all day as much as they wanted, but it didn't matter to her. It had been a good day, and it wasn't because of the money, or the posterity of having another successful operation on record. Simply doing good was the right thing, but the true fee for her service was seeing the gratitude of someone who thought that they were never going to walk again be granted a second chance, that was more than enough for her.

So, it looked like the rest of today was going to be a simple and boring, which usually was a good thing as there was no other major emergencies happening. She sat at her desk, updating the patient profile after the checkup and listing the new prescribed medication and physical therapy, estimating that everything should be back to normal in about three months. She saved the draft of the update, and then began to reread it as it was. About halfway through it, she stopped, looking at the time and deciding that it was a good time to go to lunch. She saved the draft once more for good measure, and then shut down the program, thinking it best to clear her mind before checking her work over.

Just as she pushed her chair away from the desk but before she could stand, there was a rumbling in the room. She looked around, surely she wasn't that hungry? It wasn't until she caught something moving in the corner of her eye that she remembered that her phone was sitting on her desk beside the keyboard.

"_Odd._" She thought. She didn't often get a call at this time of day, and when she did it was normally work related and would come through the landline. Curious, Angela pulled her chair back up to her desk and woke up the screen on her phone. It kept rumbling, and instead of a name showing in the contact, it was just a line of numbers. At first, she thought it was a telemarketer. Why else would some stranger be calling her? But as she thought of it, she couldn't remember the last time a telemarketer actually called her. So, without further protest, she accepted the call and put it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

What responded was a woman's voice, English, and a bit timid. "Hello? Is this Dr. Ziegler?"

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"Oh, uh, hello." She continued, "My name is Emilee, Lena is my fiancée. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before." Dr. Ziegler's eye shot wide open, like a cat dragging rotting animal corpses into the house, this… drama kept rearing its ugly head again and again. Her stomach twisted and turned into knots as she awaited her ear to get shouted off once more. In the fleeting moment that she had to herself, she just had to wonder how this kept happening to her. Before Angela could respond, Emilee quickly stated. "I'm sorry if I called you at an inappropriate time. I tried to figure out the correct time zone and reach you at a reasonable hour. I'm sure you're quite busy. If there's a better time to talk I'd be more than happy to-"

Angela interjected, "No, its quite alright, dear. I was just about to go to lunch. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing well." She said, "Planning for a wedding really takes a toll on your psyche." Chuckling nervously as she finished the statement.

"Oh, indeed." The doctor replied, both pretending to not acknowledge the landmine that they happen to be tap dancing in circles around, gradually getting closer until one finally tripped the mechanism.

"If you don't mind me asking," she began, "Lena has told me so many stories about her time at Overwatch and all of her friends, but I don't think she ever mentioned if you had been married before?"

Angela gave a sigh, preparing for the inevitable explosion as her foot was placed on the tripwire, "No, I haven't had the privilege yet."

"Well," she laughed, "let me tell you; don't. I have five older brothers who all got married, and I've thought I've seen it all already. After all I've been through, I would've been happy to just get married in front of a judge, but it was Lena who wanted the whole wedding." Angela gave a nervous chuckle, waiting as more pressure was placed on the mechanism. "Both of my grandparents were Irish Catholic on my mother's side, and believe it or not, my mother said that all of that combined is only half of the hell that was caused when she decided to convert and marry an Anglican."

For as much as she didn't want to admit it, Angela had been defensive, keeping herself guarded for the inevitable and to defend her position when the attack came. Yet, for some reason, Emilee's previous statement caused her lips to grow tight and allowed a genuine laugh to escape from her fortified position. Keeping with the levity, Angela added. "And for good reason!"

Emilee laughed in return at the joke. It was strange, like a sour candy with a sweet surprise center, it was just… pleasant to have a normal girl conversation with someone. The world of guns and bones, politics and medicine was so impersonal and grandiose, it was refreshing to just talk with someone on a personal level, even if that someone was sharing the same bed with somebody who had called her late in the night to curse her name multiple times this month.

The two waited for the joke to subside. Afterwards, Emilee said, "Listen, Dr. Ziegler,"

"Please, just call me Angela."

"Okay… I just wanted to call and apologize for what Lena's done. We've both been under a lot of stress with this wedding, and, well, you know how she can be sometimes."

Angela rested her free elbow on the desk and used that same hand to hold her forehead and support it as she closed her eye in thought, "yes… yes, I know what you mean."

"She's too ashamed to say it, but she's really been beating herself up over what happened. I mean- I know you weren't trying to insult us, but she can just be impulsive sometimes. She's been very upset and regrets what she's done, but she's too afraid to apologize. Like it's too late to try to make amends.

Alone in her office, Angela slowly nodded to her caller. "Yes. It's alright, I understand." Angela thought for a moment and decided that it was no wonder that pride was one of the deadliest of sins.

"I'm terribly sorry for all of the trouble she's caused." She began, "Now, I know that you have your objections, but I want to let you know that you're still invited to attend. She may not say be able to admit it, but it would me a lot to the both of us if you would decide to come."

Angela's mind began to race, jumping in her seat as if an axe murderer had just kicked down the door to her office. Although she, herself, hadn't had to plan one before, she had heard more than enough wedding horror stories from her friends and colleagues. The cost of meals, the seating arrangements going to hell, not having enough seats or places to house all of the guest, late guest fees, the works. Quickly, she blurted out. "Please, don't burden yourself over me."

"No, no. It's really nothing," Emilee replied, "One of my brothers is catering the entire thing, it really won't be much trouble at all. We still have a seat for you, and your friend Winston will be there as well."

Dr. Ziegler covered her eyes with her hand, thinking "_Well, if that just doesn't make me feel terrible._" She waited for a moment, thinking of using a verbal cyanide pill to just end the proposition now by just saying "No." and saving them a whole lot of trouble in the works. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it, Emilee, a woman she had hardly known before, had decided to do the right thing and call her up on her own and apologize on her soon to be wife's behalf. What would it mean if Angela didn't even have the grace to give her the charity of a chance? To forgive the trespasser who had brought so much trouble into her life?

Finally, she had no other answer than to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

The doctor gave a sigh, wondering why she kept doing this to herself, saying "I'll need to think about this. Can I call you back later?"

"Yes, you can reach me on this line. I don't mean to rush you, but the wedding is this weekend."

Still covering her eyes, Angela said, "Alright, I'll call as soon as I can." She waited, and then felt a sour guilty feeling well up in her chest, "I'm so sorry I caused all of this, this is your special day, you should be… I'm sorry if I made this all about myself."

Like a verbal pat on the back, Emilee said, "It's alright, Doctor. It's not your fault. I'm sorry all of this had to happen."

Dr. Ziegler sat with the phone up to her ear, waiting to see if her caller had anything left to say, while Emilee returned the action as well. Angela felt the urge to rake her hands through her hair while the guilty feeling kept bubbling over in her stomach. This was their wedding, how many guest were they dealing with? How many other problems did they have to solve before the big day? Angela came to the realization that she really had made this all about herself. For as much as she hated it, Lena's perceived lack of empathy had caused her to make this more of an issue than it had been, she felt like a victim, but by virtue of being one, she had made Lena and her spouse aggressors, and in a way reversing the relation as well. If she really was sorry about making this about herself, then she had to do something, anything, to prove to at least one person that her words were real.

After a silence that was too long, Angela uncovered her eyes and asked, "Emilee, please tell me, do you love Lena?"

There was a pause, as if the English woman was decoding the question to find a deeper meaning, but after considering the weight of her answer, Emilly gave an affirmative, "yes."

Soon after, both of the women said their salutations and the line went dead. After the call over, Angela set her head down on the desk and covered it with her arms.

* * *

Surely, somewhere, there was a joke about a catholic attending a protestant congregation. Angela would admit that her being here was unusual, but she never raised a fuss, and the community was more than welcome. It wasn't that there weren't any other options for her in Oasis. On the contrary, the Abrahamic religions were founded in this region of the world, and even with the political turmoil and extremism that plagued the Middle East in the early 21st century, the Omnic Crisis had almost cleaned the world's slate, and with the construction of the city-state of Oasis, all peoples were welcomed here and protected. Like how some of the most beautiful mosques in the world were located in Spain, one of the greatest modern cathedrals was located here in Oasis, and Angela had attended mass there once before. There was nothing wrong with it, per se, on the contrary, it gave ancient teachings a more modern delivery and had accessibility to all peoples, but her problem had more to do with the purpose of the service. Although she would never level the accusation against them, it seemed that many were using the patronage there as a status symbol rather than divine worship, and the priest, a man only a few years older than her, seemed to come off more as a televangelist building a brand than a shepherd guiding his flock.

Waiting in the office in an old fabric chair, Angela kept her eyes low as she awaited counsel. The office was modest, an old desk made up the center while an equally old and cheap fabric chairs were on both sides. A large paper desk calendar covered the majority of the surface, an average, but outdated, laptop computer sat on the corner by the chair. Behind the desk and high on the wall was an oak cross, decorated with the sculpting of Jesus Christ, and below it was a cheap particle board bookshelf that held several different variations of the bible as well as scrapbooks of the church's public activities and missionary trips.

The door opened, and Angela turned around. "I'm terribly sorry for the wait." Spoke the pastor, closing the door behind himself and then taking a seat at his desk. Angela apologized for the unscheduled visit, to which he said that it was no worry.

Originally from Syria, Pastor Serif Al Hussein was not the typical minister. Although born in his original homeland, he did not spend much time there, for the Syrian Civil War had made his family flee north into Europe. Settling in Germany, his decision to join the clergy was done out of gratitude to the sponsors that had taken him in years ago. With tight dark skin and at a respectable sixty five years of age, Serif had decided that it was time to finally head back to his homeland and bring his faith with him to this new city. After all, with hundreds of millions of people wanting answers after the Omnic Crisis, there was a demand for somebody to offer them peace.

He was welcoming to all that wished to attend his services, and after seeing her more frequently in the pews on his Sunday sermons, he had introduced himself to his new guest and learned of her interesting predicament. True to his faith, Pastor Serif would not offer indulgences or confessionals to Angela, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't offer assistance when something was on her mind.

Angela had always tried to be a good catholic, she attended mass as often as she could, she tithed, observed Lent, blessed her meals, prayed every day before bed, and for as much as she would never admit it, she practiced abstinence. But she did have her shortcomings, she didn't often observe the Sabbath -her idle hands needing work-, her attendance here was probably a sin in its own right, and although she had accepted it now, she had killed during her time with Overwatch. But, redemption and improvement was a virtue in its own, and life was a journey after all.

After exchanging pleasantries, the main joined his hands together on top of his desk and asked, "What is on your mind, doctor?"

Dr. Ziegler, who had made her visit to the church immediately after she was finished at the hospital, took a deep breath and said, "I've been… conflicted, Father. The path before me seems clear but… I have doubts in my heart."

Both of these two had seen the complexities of the world, through one means or another, they had both experienced the conflict's almost unending lists of casualties, the twenty five million orphaned children around the world, the seeds of hope that could still grow in times that seemed forsaken. In a world of uncertainties, there was nothing that humans, young or old, desired more than a simple and defined answer to their problems. "What seems to be the issue, child?"

"I have a friend, she's getting married soon and wants me to bear witness to her union…" she hesitated for a moment, finally stating, "she's also a homosexual." At that word, the pastor closed his dark eyes and nodded in understanding. "I thought that she would understand, I've followed the Lord's teachings, but it's been a struggle and… well… I don't know what to do."

After a moment of thinking, Pastor Serif said, "I see your predicament. If you don't mind my asking, do you harbor ills for your friend?"

Calmly but still quickly, Angela answered, "No, of course not." She waited, then added, "I'm afraid that my friend will not forgive me for my beliefs. We… well, she's very upset."

The pastor's eyes wandered, drifting up to the ceiling as he thought about the situation. Angela thought that he was searching for the answer in within his memory of divine scripture, but his next question surprised her. "If your mind wasn't so conflicted, or if this union was as the Lord had demanded, would you go?"

So sure in her objections had Angela been that she honestly hadn't considered the possibility of actually attending. It was strange, like a sports team playing in a tournament but not expecting to make it past the first game, it hadn't occurred to her to entertain the possibility of attending the wedding. After thinking about it for a moment, disconnecting her mind to make sure that her logic and feelings were in concert with each other, she answered in the affirmative.

"Yet, your heart will not let you go"?

"I don't think I can." She answered. Faith in God was not a luxury. She couldn't choose the tenets of her faith like shopping from a catalog. Throughout her life, the things she's seen, the struggles she's endured, she always held faith in the Lord. People could mock her for her beliefs, but she knew what she held in her heart, she believed that it was the moral way of life. Even if she was wrong, that possibility was even more frightening. The trials and tribulations that she had endured in life, her parents, the millions of people each day who wake up not knowing that this would be their last day on Earth, the incomprehensible tragedy that had occurred thirty years ago, the idea that there was just… nothing? What was the point in living or suffering if it all turned into a zero sum gain? The people she had met only saw the evils of the world, the atrocities that had happened and used it to justify the absence or malevolence of God, but she had seen the good thing, the horrors that people had survived, that she had survived, miracles that didn't make sense, she knew in her heart that there had to be meaning behind it.

If her faith was false, then what was the purpose in doing good? Logically, why wouldn't she take her wealth and fortune and forsake those in need by living in opulence for the rest of her days? What she had was structure, order, and meaning. Psalm 130; 1-2; the Christian virtue that she had adopted as her name; Mercy. Her purpose in life was to be the ear of the lord, the listener who heard the world and answered to their call for mercy. What would it mean if she didn't truly believe what she spoke? To her, it could only be described as blasphemous.

The two sat in the office for a moment, Pastor Serif with his hand on his chin in thought while Angela waited for his guidance. Finally, he sat forward and began to speak, "Child, I understand your conundrum, and while I am not your Father, here is the guidance I can offer." Angela perked up, eager for his teachings, "The Lord's house is a temple, and it must be kept sacred. The Lord's teachings instructs us to turn the other cheek and not answer injury with revenge or hatred, but an insult to the Lord demands correction. When our savior visited the temple and found it infiltrated by beasts and hagglers, he drove them out, demanding sanctity of his home and creed. Your protest is well founded. If you truly harbor no ills in your heart for your friend, and love her as the Lord loves his children, and if she reciprocates this love, then I am certain she will understand in time."

Angela breathed a sigh of relief, looking down as she listened to the teachings. Pastor Serif was not often one that would preach fire and brimstone, but she supposed that the answer to the question she sought required it. Angela waited for a moment considering what she had heard, and when she was ready, thanked the pastor and prepared to leave. In return, Pastor Serif Al Hussein smiled and blessed her for the visit. He declared that he would pray for her guidance, and as she departed, he left her with the same final proclamation that he ended all of his sermons with, "and always remember, God forgives".

Still midday, Angela sat in her automobile in the parking lot of the church as she mulled over what she had heard. It was over, she had her answer, even if a part of her was upset, she could take solace in knowing that it was all over now. For as complicated and twisted the world and its people could be, getting a simple and affirmative answer to her conundrum was a relief. Come this weekend, Lena and her Fiancée would be getting married, and Angela would be free of the responsibility to her conscience to be there. While those two and their families would be getting ready, sitting in the pews, saying their vows, and cutting their wedding cake, Angela would be a thousand miles away, at her desk, at the operating table, or on her knees praying to God and knowing that it was all finally over. As Angela sat in her car, she considered what would happen, maybe Emilee and Lena would curse her name when it came to them standing at the altar, or maybe Angela would realize the err of her ways when it was too late? Or maybe that fateful day would come and when the sun set over the horizon that night, it would rise once more and then begin a beautiful new day.

At the end of it all, both parties would go on and close this chapter and continue on with their lives. Angela didn't know what to expect or what would happen in the next coming days, all she did know is that it would all be over and she was relieved at that.

But if it was so relieving, what was still making her feel so upset?

She had her answer, whether she wanted to attend or not. The final decree had been given and that meant that there was no alternative, no backdoor, no other way about it. Yet, for as black and white as everything had become, there was something that she was missing, a riddle hidden in the teaching that was just outside of her grasp.

Like looking into a mosaic, she kept pondering what the pastor had said and kept making out the hint of something more, something deeper. But what was it? She understood what the Lord had preached and saw it as scripture to follow, and that there would be wrath and consequences for disobedience, but what wasn't she seeing?

Then she saw it, the stars aligned, he vision unfocused, and the mosaic rearranged itself to show its true meaning.

God forgives.

Quickly, Angela rummaged through her purse and found her cellphone. Looking through her recent phone calls, she found the number she was looking for and gave it a call.

* * *

_Many years ago…_

The Swiss street was completely unremarkable on this day. Cars passed by, people walked with animals, and Lena Oxton was standing with her back to a street corner reading a newspaper. All would seem to be normal, except Lena was here on official "Company Business". Special Agent Tracer pretended to read her newspaper, a change of clothes and a large drab coat hid much of her identity while she focused on her real interests; a doorway down the street. It was fun, a real change of pace for once now that the global crisis had settled down, and as for what she was doing, she felt like an old-school suave English secret agent. She had the ridiculous gadgets, a secret mission handed directly from the head of the agency, and all she was waiting on now was her bombshell leading lady.

Her mission, as she had chosen to accept, was simple: keep a watchful eye on Overwatch's chief medical officer. As she had learned prior, today was the good doctor's birthday, and as such, the higher ups had decided to throw a surprise party for the soon-to-be twenty five year old. As had been expected, she requested to have the day off, a strategy that allowed her to only come in for a half a day in the morning to get paperwork done before going home. The plan was that once the party was ready, a fake emergency would happen and she would be requested to return to the medical facility, where much of the organization would be waiting for her. As she left, Lena had tailed her back to her condo and was now keeping an eye on her so that she didn't accidentally ruin her surprise.

All was calm, until Dr. Ziegler's front door opened. Trying to stay incognito, Lena raised her newspaper while trying to peek around the side. The doctor wasn't on the street for long, only walking from her door to her car, but what she saw in that moment was almost mesmerizing. When Lena had the day off, she often would just order Chinese food and sit around her place all day in her underwear and watch professional wrestling, so she thought that the doctor would just be inside all day. Instead of laying around or doing nothing, it seemed that the doctor was getting ready to go out. Although she only saw her for a moment, Lena saw that her hair was down, straightened and flowing like a river of gold, and she was wearing a pure white dress. It was almost mesmerizing to look at, like a blinding hypnotic light for the few seconds that she was visible on the street.

Dr. Ziegler got into her car and drove off at a leisurely pace. Immediately, Lena hailed for a taxi, and was lucky enough to have one be nearby. Quickly, she pointed at the doctor's car and told the driver to follow her. As she watched in the back seat, Lena's mind began to ponder, thinking of what the doctor was doing. Normally, in her experience, a white dress like that was for someone who was trying to hide something, and being that it was her birthday, it left only a few things to Lena's imagination. Wherever she was going, it was important, and to whoever she was going to see, she had to look good.

It wasn't long until the doctor's car stopped. The taxi hung back and pulled over as the doctor parked on the street. Lena watched, wondering what she was doing. Quickly, Angela got out of her car, checked the street and the sidewalk, and then entered into a store. She was in there for a good two minutes, Lena was about to pay for her ride and investigate, but soon after, she reappeared once more. Now, she had a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. Still only visible for a few moments as she got her car open and set the arrangement inside, Lena saw the package and almost immediately knew what they were. The reds were roses, their tight bulbs wrapped together like fine chocolates, the gladioli stood on tall stalks and speckled the bouquet, and finally the carnations were pure and white.

Angela was back in her car once more, and without prompt, Lena's taxi followed. Her mind raced, thinking of what exactly was going on and began to piece together what her suspect was up to. Her fantasy became more and more vivid, until finally her cheeks blushed and she had to put a hand up to her mouth. As far as she knew, Dr. Ziegler didn't have a boyfriend, and definitely not a husband, where ever she was going, she had to look nice, and so it only made sense that she was going on a date. A romantic escapade on her birthday, a treat to herself. Only time would tell if it became a booty call, but what truly got Lena's mind racing were the flowers.

Nobody in their right mind buys flowers for a man, so that only meant one thing. For as much as she did the innocent and pure catholic girl routine, it seemed that Dr. Ziegler was into the lasses herself. This drama was getting too juicy, and the only thing better would be to find out who was the special lady Dr. Ziegler was going to meet. Even in work clothes, Dr. Ziegler was stunning, so that begged the question, how beautiful would this lucky girl be who even Angela was trying to woo with a fancy dress and flowers?

Lena's phone rang, it was a text message from the Commander requesting a situation update. Lena gave her position in pursuit as the cab followed the doctor out of town and asked for them to wait as she figured out what she was up to.

Gradually, Lena still following in a taxi, Angela led her stalker out of the city and into the Swiss countryside. After following for thirty minutes, the doctor pulled out into a small alpine village and began to travel down back country roads until finally pulling into a driveway. The cab driver pulled over, not wanting to give away his passenger completely, and Lena payed for the fare. Lena took in the environment and began to investigate the area.

The place Angela had pulled into was an old brick and stone building. The rest of the yard was quaint and blended in well with the countryside with a long stretching field around it and a curved driveway that lead to a small parking lot. Although never having been into one, it looked a lot like a postcard of an old English country club that Lena had seen before. Hiding from view, Lena scoped out the parking lot and found the doctor's car parked there while two other cars were in the lot as well.

"_Well, this looks like some fancy getaway._" She thought, "_and there seems to be more than just her here…_" she continued.

Quickly, Lena ran across the open area and up the driveway to the front entrance to the club, across the cement embankment and up to the front doors of the establishment. Now that she was closer, she noticed that there were some words on the wall by the entryway, but she couldn't read them. But, just by judging, it looked like the name of some sort of fancy place. She gave the large double doors a tug, and sure enough, they were unlocked. Checking her surroundings, Lena gave the outside one last look before entering inside.

What she expected to see when she went inside was some sort of fancy restaurant, maybe a grand fireplace with some armchairs and couches, a host or hostess waiting for reservations, or even to have her expectations completely subverted and be walking into a hardcore BDSM club, but none of it was right. Sure, the insides were fancy and continued the stone and brick construction, but the room was largely empty. The marble entryway quickly turned to carpet, there was a lonely guest book, but for the most part, it was just a large gothic room with etched stone walls and almost nothing in it. Near the door looked to be an office, and there looked to be a hall on the opposite side of the foyer that lead somewhere else.

Not sure where she was or what the place was, she timidly took a step forward, not wanting to break the almost crushing silence in the building, but after standing there like a statue for almost thirty seconds, she chanced a sound.

"Hello?"

It was still quiet, Lena was about to move her way towards the office, but then she heard the sounds of footsteps. The room was so big and sound echoed so loudly, she wasn't sure where it was coming from until Dr. Ziegler appeared coming out of the side hall. Shocked the see that her ears weren't deceiving her and that she did indeed recognize the voice, Angela approached and asked, "Lena… what are you doing here?"

What she had seen before was only a preview, the sample of what was to come, Angela was indeed just as magnificent up close as she was darting from her home to her car. Her skin looked smooth, and dress was pure and had a glowing sheen to it. Her hair was down and curled around her shoulder. Her lips were as red as vermilion, but it was at that point that Lena noticed that something was wrong.

Although Angela Ziegler looked like a picturesque marble statue given life and flesh by Aphrodite herself, she had one imperfection. Although care undoubtedly taken in applying her makeup, there was a running smudge around her eyes, and a matching mark around her wrist, almost as if she had been weeping.

Thinking of a non-answer on the spot, Lena said, "I was just in the area and decided to stop by. What are you doing here?"

Angela, almost unsure as to what she was being asked, slowly answered, "I was… I was just visiting my parents."

It seemed normal enough, but what was so peculiar about all of this? Why the preparation, why the getup, why was she taking a day off to sneak away and just visit her parents?

Lena had many questions, and she knew that the doctor wasn't necessarily buying her story either, but hoping to explain herself, Angela motioned for Lena to follow and lead her down the hall.

The side hall had a glazed stone floor, which echoed the clicks of Dr. Ziegler's heels as the two women walked. It seemed like the building as just a fancy structure just for the point of being a fancy structure, nothing inside of it made any sense to Lena, no people, no furniture, no decorations, just a building.

After turning a corner, Angela stopped at what seemed to be an arbitrary place along another long hallway, the doctor motioned her hand towards a low spot on the wall that had some letters engraved into the stone. Before she spoke, Lena noticed that the bouquet of flowers that Dr. Ziegler had picked up way lying on the floor at the base of the wall.

"Lena, this is my father, and this is my mother."

It took her a moment to think about what she was doing, but then Lena's eyes shot wide open with what this place was. "_This isn't a country club._ " she mentally shouted at herself, "_This is a mausoleum, you bloody twat_!"

Dr. Ziegler wiped her eye once more, adding. "We've been so busy for the last few months that I hadn't been able to see them very often. I wanted to come by and check in on them. To… give them my thanks for all they did for me." Changing her tone, she returned to Lena and repeated, "But I still don't understand, what are you doing here, Lena?"

Completely lost for words, Lena looked down towards the ground, stammering as she thought of something witty. It was at that moment, she noticed that there was some dirt and dust around the knees of Angela's dress, which made her feel even worse as she realized that, in her fantasy of the doctor going on an unhinged hedonistic and debauchery filled escapade, she had interrupted the woman as she was praying. But then, as she realized it, an idea popped into her head.

"well," Lena said, "don't let me interrupt you then." Lena wasn't the religious type, on the contrary, she thought the idea was harmful to the world, but she didn't see the trouble in giving it a shot for just a moment. Slowly, she got down on her own knees, and conjoined her hands together. Angela was confused for a moment, but then saw what she was doing and, although more interested in answers to her question, decided that it was more important to compliment the symbolic action.

* * *

Psalm 130: 1-2:

"Out of the depths I cry to you, lord;

Lord, hear my voice

Let your ears be attentive

To my cry for mercy."


	6. Ch5 Starman

Starman

"Are you sure this is all that you have?" Angela asked.

"I'm sorry Ms., but this is it." Angela Ziegler, standing in the middle of three mirrors, turned and looked at herself in the booth. What she saw was decent, it fit reasonably well, and she didn't look _too_ awkward in it, but that didn't change the fact that what she was wearing was a tuxedo. Reading her body language, the clerk standing beside her and checking to make sure that everything was on correctly then added, "I wish I had something else for you, but, like I said, it is wedding season."

Angela's change of heart after speaking with her Pastor had prompted her to act fast. Surely, Emilee's open invitation to the doctor was done in good nature, but neither she nor Angela had really considered the time or distance to make the arrangement possible. Cancelling all of her appointments and rushing everywhere she went, Angela returned home, threw a garment bag and travel suitcase together and made her way to the airport. She took the first of many flights to get from Oasis, Iraq to London, England. If three days of transit while booking any available flights wasn't laborious enough, the first clear sign of the struggles to come happened when her luggage was lost during layover in Munich.

But, panicking in a stressful situation didn't help. She had her shoes, she had her money, and she had herself, so although a major setback, she just had to remain calm and work through it. Arriving in the UK, she rented a car and made her way into the countryside. It was after that when she heard a phrase that she would soon learn to despise.

Blake's Fancy Dress Rental and Alterations seemed like something out of a film, the essential small town business owned and operated by an old married couple. Located two towns over from where the wedding was, it seemed that the crossroad-town store would be the answer to her lost luggage issues.

But, that was before she learned that it was wedding season.

Although the store staff smiled and said they could help with her wardrobe woes, her problems were just beginning. Being tall and with a large bust line didn't leave many options to their limited leftover inventory, and as she had been trying on the dresses, most either didn't fit or looked too much like some sort of slutty prom dress and would need major alterations to look presentable.

After getting redressed in normal street clothes once more, she exited the changing room to the waiting staff, carefully handing back the dress that didn't fit and awaiting to see what else they had to offer, but after seeing the clerk scratching the back of his head, she came to realize that there were no options left.

Then, like a knight in shining armor, a small woman, about sixty-five years of age, came out from the back. Pushing aside the curtain to the alterations department and carried a black garment bag before her like a large dinner platter. Angela, seeing her last hope, graciously took the black covering into the changing room and unzipped the container, revealing… a tuxedo.

Well, to call it just a tuxedo would be a little too much charity, it was a women's magician outfit altered and reassembled to look like a tuxedo. The nicest thing about it was that the jacket itself, having been meant for a woman's chest instead of a man's pectorals, was that it fit well on top. The ensemble had a turn-down shirt with black buttons, which fit around her neck well enough, but judging from the feel of the hemline scratching down her legs, the satin stripe trousers felt as if they had just been altered to be tighter for a woman's leg.

The clerk's eyes traced his customer, being more comfortable correcting men who had never worn a tuxedo before and eyeing for flaws in the unit. Meanwhile, Angela eyed the suit in the mirror. Although the worry was visible on her face, it was clear that her nose didn't spontaneously turn into a squeaky red ball nor that her hair turned into a rainbow wig, so she didn't look like a complete clown.

She twisted and turned, feeling the clothes and testing her range of motion. This hadn't been the first time she had worn a suit, and she along with other women in her field had worn tuxedos for a charity benefit before as well, but that didn't make it feel right. She could still feel the hidden pockets and compartments inside of the jacket, and the padding on the shoulders almost made her feel like a professional athlete.

"How does it feel?" the man asked.

Terrible, was the answer. But Angela was still quiet. Everything in her mind was trying to tell her that this was a bad idea, that what she was doing was just… unnatural. But at the same time, she really didn't want to walk out empty handed, drive hours back to the nearest metropolitan area to find an alternative just to be turned down once more because, "It's wedding season."

Pulling the curtain back from her domain, the old woman from before approached the clerk and guest standing at the mirror. Through big glasses, she looked at the woman in a tuxedo and hopped where she stood when she saw something that piqued her interest. Pulling over a stepping stool, she approached the doctor and got to about shoulder high on the woman. Pulling a black ribbon from her pocket, she pulled the bowtie loose from the doctor's collar and then strung and tied the ribbon in a loose bow around her neck.

"Much better?" the seamstress asked.

Angela gave a sigh, not believing she was about to say it, but answered, "Yes."

* * *

In what seemed like a stroke of good luck, The Mosey Inn had one vacant room left. It was structured like the typical motel, only being two stories tall and having every room open up directly outside to the parking lot.

Angela, holding a physical key instead of a magnetic card, slid the key into the door and entered her room.

Not having much in the way of luggage, she wheeled her carry-on bag into the room while the garment bag with her rented evening wear was slung over her shoulder and held by two fingers. After getting through the doorway, she slid the rolling carry-on so that it could stand on its own and opened up the nearby closet door to hang the garment bag. After that, she walked to the far side of the room and took a seat at a chair in the corner.

It was amazing how sitting for long periods of time could be so exhausting, flying in a plane, waiting at an airport, driving in a car, and for as ironic as it was, the only way to cure the fatigue was to take a seat once more and rest. Breathing in a sigh of relief, she pulled her purse over and removed some of her belongings, the first of which was the itinerary of the wedding. Angela couldn't imagine what Lena had thought she had done upon seeing the list of activities for her wedding day, be it ripping it in half and throwing it out a window, dousing it in holy water before shoving it down a garbage disposal, or burning it on a plate of incense while praying at the cross, but the reality of it was that even after the realization of the trouble the little card had caused, Angela had kept it on the sideboard in her kitchen. Checking the time on her watch, she had assumed that the wedding party must have completed the rehearsal ceremony, and if she had the time right, then chances are they were now making their way to the rehearsal dinner.

It was then that the thought occurred to her that she should probably give Emilee a call. She had called to confirm that she had changed her mind and was now coming, and it seemed that it would be practical to inform her that she had landed safely and was in the area. Although her body was still in limbo from the jetlag, she may even be able to attend the rehearsal dinner and start meeting the other attendees of the ceremony. Maybe then she could meet… Lena.

Her mind froze at that moment. Her presence here… It almost felt like she was walking out of surgery to inform someone that she was unable to save their loved one. It didn't matter which way she thought of it or considered it in her mind, everything felt wrong. All the trouble she had caused, the very last minute trip half way around the world to go to an event she had spent about half a year preparing not to attend, it didn't matter which way she decided to announce her arrival. Be it showing up at the informal dinner party, the ceremony, the reception, the day after, or just calling her right now, it just felt… wrong. If anything, the only appropriate thing to do would be to get on another plane and fly home and try to pretend that none of this ever happened.

She shook her head. No, this was no time to back out now. Emilee seemed to be a normal woman, and most likely she had already told Lena that Angela was coming. Angela just needed to calm down and focus. Still, calling them to let them know that she had arrived would be the courteous thing to do.

Angela grabbed her phone and was about to go to her contacts, but then decided that she may want to hold on for just a moment before declaring that she was all set. Rummaging through her purse once more, Angela pulled out a small blacklight and rose from the chair.

Having spent more than enough time traveling had taught her that there was always time to check hotel rooms out before settling in. With the amount of horrible things she had heard about bedbugs, she had every reason to be cautious. Walking past the bed, she made her way to the bathroom, wanting to wash her hands for good measure before inspecting the room for cleanliness.

No sooner had she opened the door that she caught sight of scurrying insects across the tile floor, hiding from the light of the sun. Within 3 minutes, all of her possessions were out of the room and Angela was back at the front desk.

* * *

Hours later and now having driven to a whole other town, Angela took a seat in her new hotel room and took a moment to collect herself. For as bizarre as it sounded, it seemed like she had secured the last vacant room in all of the English countryside. This hotel, a Marriot Hilton, was quite new and was actually closer to the events of tomorrow, but had been a much further ride away from where she had come from. The room itself was quite large, almost the size of a decent apartment in a city, and the price of which showed as such. There were two beds with folded white sheets and plush pillows on them. The carpet was soft and white, matching the walls and ceiling, while a dark oak accent lined the perimeter of the walls.

She really wished that she hadn't had to rent such an expensive and extravagant room, but then again, she didn't know why she was surprised when the receptionist answered her bewilderment over their vacancies by stating that it was wedding season.

She checked the time again, it was getting late now. The wedding party was undoubtedly getting ready for bed at this hour, and she herself had already grabbed dinner in her search for shelter for the night, so on top of the jetlag and mixing fast food with airline food, she really needed to settle down now. Having already checked the room for sanitation, Angela rose and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She had already checked the bathroom to make sure that it was suitable for her level of cleanliness, and everything was satisfactory. The shower curtain was white and held no stains, the sanitary sheet behind it also looked to be new and didn't have any mildew. Toilet and sink were both spotless, and thankfully, no signs of bugs anywhere.

She stepped inside, and like stepping on the ice at a skating rink, the doctor's first foot slid forward half a foot length, making her body go tense and hair stand on end. The tiles, being new and freshly lacquered, were incredibly slippery. It had been the second time Angela had slipped on them, and she didn't know if it was her low energy or carelessness that had made her forget it. Regardless, she stepped with even footfalls on the tiles and made her way to the sink and rummaged through her toiletry bag. There, she removed a traditional toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste and got to work. As she brushed her teeth, her eyes drifted from the spotless mirror in front of her to the rest of the amenities on the marble sink and countertop. Sitting on the far side of the countertop was a machine that looked like a coffee maker. It was just a little larger, and instead of a clear glass coffee pot, it was made of dark, see-through, plastic. On the front it read, "Ice O Matic". Sure enough, on the inside of the plastic container were frozen molds of ice filling out the body of the device.

"_An automated icemaker for the room_?" she thought, "_Interesting_." It looked convenient, and the container was sealed to the ice maker, but as she thought on it, she began to wonder if having an icemaker meant for human consumption so close to a toilet like this was actually sanitary.

Soon afterwards, she finished with her teeth, and after changing into a spare set of underwear and undershirt that she had purchased at a supermarket, the doctor finally went to bed. Before she finally flipped over onto the pillows, she took her phone and set an alarm for herself. Lena and Emilee's wedding would be in the early afternoon, so with the time it took to get breakfast, get ready, and get to the location, she set the alarm for nine o' clock of the next morning.

Finally, with the lights out and alarm set, she conjoined her hands in prayer and closed her eyes. She prayed for her family, for her friends, and also for Lena and her soon to be spouse, but most importantly, she prayed for forgiveness for herself, for as she thought more and more on it, she was questioning herself about why she was here to begin with.

With that, she closed her eyes and tried to relax, but no sooner had she tried to drift off to sleep, the darkness approached within her mind. As her thoughts drifted, doubts and worries began to take center stage in her subconscious. Worries of what would happen tomorrow, the worst case scenarios, the bother of things going wrong and what she would do if that happened. Part of it was spurred on by the previous few days' poor diet, while also the last of her stress-energy from Jet lag.

Her mind focused on her attire, and began to wonder about her legs. She was going to be wearing trousers tomorrow, did that mean that she didn't have to shave her legs? If she didn't, it would save much time, and afterall, chances are nobody would notice. Then, her mind went to her hair, and then her makeup, indecisiveness on what she did or didn't have to do.

After having enough of the doubting, Angela opened her eyes and got to her phone once more, cancelling the alarm and then starting another one, taking the previous time and moving it back two hours. Satisfied with the extra time to get ALL of her routine done, the doctor set the phone down and closed her eyes once more. With that, the darkness in her mind was settled, and she finally began to drift off to sleep.

With one final thought, she smiled, thinking over the silly metaphors of the English language. "Wedding Season". What did that even mean? She supposed that it meant that many people wanted to get married at the same time of the year, but why would they call it that and not something else? From the sounds of it, it almost made her think that there were going to be men with guns hiding off in the distance watching the party, and when the time came they would dress up in some sort of disguise to shoot wedding guests and then have them hung on their wall as trophies.

With that silly thought on her mind, Dr. Zieger finally drifted off to sleep. After such a long ordeal, her rest was deep and dark. So lost in her thoughts was she that she didn't even notice the word "Start?" blinking on her phone.

* * *

Angela awoke to sunlight. The slight burn to her eyes caused her to roll over and away from the windows. From there, she closed her eyes once more, drifting back off to sleep. The bed was fantastic, she would have to find out where the hotel got these sheets and mattress from and possibly see if she could order herself one. She took a deep breath and was about to go back to sleep, but something seemed… off. Like a fancy restaurant trying to serve delivery pizza or someone flashing their car lights on the road at her, all seemed well, but something in her mind was telling her that she was missing something.

Then more of her mind began to come to the realization that something was not right. More and more, she began to pick up on things, details that shouldn't be happening, paranoid thoughts screaming out for her to panic, and on the opposite side of her mind, something was telling her to calm down, to get rest and that everything was going to be alright.

Finally, the doubts said something that she couldn't ignore. If she set the alarm to go off early, then why was the sun out?

Then the calm side rebuked, "If it was too late, then why hadn't her alarm gone off?"

Both sides dwelled on that question, and finally, Agela opened her eyes and grabbed the phone at her nightstand. The alarm was to be set for 7:30 in the morning. It said so on the display, but not even taking in the rest of the device, Angela looked up in the corner of the display, and looked at the time.

11:07

"Scheisse, schiesse, schiesse!" she shouted, throwing the sheets off.

Immediately, she ran to the bathroom and turned the shower on, turning and then getting her toothbrush and furiously scrubbing her teeth as fast as she could. The warm water steamed up the mirror, and the automatic fan began turning. With condensation on the tiles, Angela threw off her underwear and made her way to the shower, but no sooner that she set her foot in the sparkling wet tub that the sweat and steam met. Like Newton's second law decided that it wasn't going to work in that moment, Angela's foot slid across the tub, sending half of her body airborne.

There was a second of clarity, a brief moment of omnipotence, almost like what some of her patient's had described as their life flashing before their eyes. The warm steam, the fine white glazed paint on the ceiling, the sound of every droplet of water as it hit the pooling bath in the tub. In that indistinguishable point in time, Angela felt like she was out of her body, feeling every single piece of information that all of her senses detected as she was weightless in the air. Her fingers felt every single stitch of fabric on the shower curtain, and her nails felt the invisible residue of the plastic sheet as they dug into it. The bar holding the curtain broke, falling down and becoming a gown of crème in air as she fell.

Then time resumed, she collided with the slippery tiles in a wet and dull thud, and last but definitely not least, her leg smacked against the side of the shower, causing a massive shock of pain to shoot through her body as her ankle recoiled into a ball of hurt.

She bellowed in pain, if anyone had been outside of her room, they would have probably tried to find a way in and help. Angela, lying on the floor wrapped in the sheet, did all she could to breathe and not scream out in agony. Her ankle, propped up on the side of the tub, made her twist and turn, finally freeing her leg so it could roll up and into her body, but no position taken alleviated the pain.

Her mind panicked, although the pain was a biting presence in her thoughts, every second she sat on the floor was another that she was late, ruining the reason why she was here in the first place. Even if she could get up, how was she going to get dressed, or drive, or stand, or kneel, or walk? She didn't know what to do!

Finally giving the will to move a chance, Angela reached up to the slippery tub, grabbing ahold with her hand and pulling herself up. Wounded leg still up to her chest, she got into a sitting position with the shower curtain around her chest. She sat there for a moment as the shower continued to run. This was it, the end of the journey. She supposed that it really was the thought that counted. She could call and say that she fell and couldn't make it but wished that she could, and that ultimately would be the excuse that she was looking for. She tried, and hopefully Lena would accept that she would have come if she had the ability to, but it looked like instead of attending a wedding, Angela would spend it sitting in her hotel room nursing her leg.

She was in no position to diagnose herself, but judging from the pain that she was in, it was not an ACL or Achilles tendon injury. After twisting to get a look at it, the wound looked to be a nasty sprain and possibly a pulled muscle. The lump felt big, and although purple, it wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

It was at that point that she looked up, just blankly staring at the countertop in front of her thinking of what to do next when the Ice O Matic caught her eye. Nearby was her purse, its contents memorized like scripture. Finally, and she herself could hardly believe it, she had an idea.

She tucked her good leg in and braced both hands against the lip of the bathtub, barred her teeth, and slowly began to stand. Seeing the determined look in the eyes of her reflection, she set her pulsating foot down and fought through the pain. She didn't know if what had just happened was a warning to stop, a test and lesson on perseverance, or just some incredibly unfortunate accident. All she did know was that all throughout her life, her faith in the Lord had given her strength, and she sure as hell hadn't gone this far to give up now.


	7. Ch6 Life on Mars?

Life on Mars?

The abundance of cars at the Foundation building meant two things: One, this was indeed the correct place, and two, that she had undoubtedly missed the ceremony.

On the outside of town, the English Foundation building was a culture and community center. Located between the main town and the suburbs, the building was built on the side of a hill and overlooking a river. From driving by, it looked like the backyard of the building was an open grass city park with cement walkways and paths. Passing by the building and over the park and river was a cement commuter bridge.

Angela drove her rental through the parking lot, searching for any spot close to the entrance. Sadly, every spot, from the private bus parked across 4 spaces, to even the handicapped reserved spaces, were occupied. Turning around, Dr. Ziegler drove out of the parking lot and up the street to the top of the hill, from there, she finally found an opening among three lone parking spots by the entrance to the park. Before she turned the vehicle off, she checked the clock on the dashboard… and by god she was late.

From there, she pulled down the visor mirror and inspected herself one final time. Her makeup was simple, even subdued from what she normally would put on, but enough to be respectable. Her hair was tied back in her usual high and short ponytail. She checked her collar, the bow around her neck, and made sure that everything looked presentable. Taking a breath to prepare herself, she looked over at her purse and rummaged through it to find anything she may need and put them into the compartments of her vest and jacket. The last item she found was a small pill bottle filled with over the counter pain relief medication. She uncorked the child safety lock and dropped four tablets into her palm before swallowing them all. She understood that now she would not be able to have alcohol for the rest of the night, but there were worse things that could happen. Pocketing the pill bottle and making sure she was ready, Angela finally opened the door and stepped out. Her first leg exited the vehicle easily, but only after a deep breath and concentration was she able to swing her other leg over the side of the car and onto the road. She waited for a moment, and when ready once more, she –still favoring one leg over another- swung herself to a standing position and leveraged her weight against the car.

Slowly, she put more weight down on her bad ankle, feeling the response almost like an air cushion pushing against the weight of her body on the tender area, and after a while, things began to feel better. She was just thankful that the rental shop had slipped a spare set of shoes into the garment bag so she didn't have to wear heels.

With a limp to her step, she walked alongside of her car and up to the sidewalk. Once she got there, she noticed there was a sizeable curb between the parking area and the raised pedestrian area. "_Well,_" she thought, _"that's going to be fun getting over later."_

Regardless, she swung her wounded side up first, and then against her better judgement, pulled the strong side up to quickly regain her footing on the sidewalk. She had expected to be in a monumental amount of pain after doing that action, and while it did still hurt, it was not as bad as she had expected, so she supposed that must have been some of her treatment finally taking effect.

She walked down the incline and up to the building, around the cars in the parking lot, and finally into the venue.

The first room she entered was sparse, a rollout red carpet over the short carpeting of the banquet center. There were little to no decorations except for a few photographs of locals or events that had been held her before. Soon after she entered, a door opened to the side and a man in a white server's outfit exited pushing a tray full of covered dishes before him. He turned his head, seeing Angela standing there in a black tuxedo and had to take a minute to recognize what she was while she waited as well.

"uh, Excuse me, M'um. Are you with the wedding party?"

"Yes." Angela answered.

"Good, dinner's just begun." He pointed to a doorway, then said. "Down the stairs and to the left." Angela visibly winced at the mention of stairs, but knew that she had to mentally tough it out, so she thanked the server and began to limp towards the doorway she had been pointed to. Luckily, after seeing her take a few wounded strides, the server asked, "On second thought, would you like to use the lift?"

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief and took him up on his offer. She followed him to a steel colored service elevator and the two rode down to the lower floor. The doors opened, and the two were in a secondary kitchen, not necessarily the place to cook food, but instead an area with the space, countertops, and area to stage it before serving. Angela was pointed to another side door, and she took it.

A few hours after midday, the banquet hall would have been bright and vibrant at this hour. The room was a long rectangle, one of the long sides was a wall with doorways to the side areas such as the closet, stairs, and the secondary kitchen. The other side was simply sets of French double-doors down all but a little length of wall on each side. The glass doorways acted as windows when needed, and openings to the outside based on what the event at hand needed them to be. At this time they were all closed. Supposedly, it was quite warm outside today, but Angela hadn't noticed, as she had been inside for most of it. As they were now, the doors were closed and heavy curtains drawn to cool off the wedding party. The action gave them all a much needed break from the sun, but also made the room quite dark.

Angela, by both wearing her ridiculous tuxedo as well as her incredibly late arrival, had a worry in her mind that she would enter and be greeted by some extravagant introduction, that lights would focus on her and all would see her walk into the party like some sort of honored guest. Luckily, she was wrong. Everybody seemed to be distracted with each other at the moment, and she was inconspicuous. The center of the hall was a dancefloor, placed before it like a king's court were the guests of honor, and around the floor throughout the rest of the hall were large circular table full of guests.

It was dark at the moment, Angela's eyes hadn't adjusted from the bright afternoon to the dark building, so she wasn't sure where she was to sit. From her quick estimation, it looked to be 200 people seated in the room, it was amazing that they were able to seat them all here in a single room. On the far end opposite of the DJ was a bartender manning the refreshments and beside him looked to be a sign with the seating arrangements, but that wouldn't be necessary, for even in the dark and hardly able to see at the moment, Angela made out the form of Dr. Winston T. Gorilla at a corner table.

It was hard to miss Winston. On one hand he was over 600 lbs and stood several heads taller than the average person. On the other. He was also a blue Gorilla genetically modified by scientists on the Moon. But, a familiar face was always a familiar face, and if Winston was sitting there, then Angela had a feeling that she wouldn't be much further.

She began to make her way towards him, and after taking a few strides, he happened to notice her and began to wave his large padded hand at her. The doctor smiled, giving him a short wave back and did her best to hide the limp.

When she approached the table, there was indeed a seat waiting for her next to Dr. Winston. His seating arrangement, on the other hand, were two large truck tires, probably the only things that could support his massive frame. When he was close, Winston said, "Good to see you finally made it Dr. Ziegler." His voice was deep, and even as he tried to keep his volume low, it was still quite loud. Luckily for them, though, it seemed that the rest of the party was already intoxicated enough to the point where they were talking loudly as well. It was at that moment that Winston noticed that Angela happened to be wearing a tuxedo and complimented her on it.

She thanked him, looking at him and seeing that he, himself, was wearing his own tuxedo as well. Angela had recognized the suit, Lena and her had went with him to the tailor on the day many years ago that Winston was measured and fitted for his formal wear. It must have taken up a massive amount of fabric to make anything that would fit him, Angela imagined that his tuxedo must have been the size of bed sheets if he just laid it all out. Yet, she had to admit that she was proud with how well he must have taken care of his clothes, as well as him looking quite well in them.

Angela took a seat next to him, taking the weight off her feet and complimented Winston on how handsome he looked. The big Gorilla laughed, saying, "I Know. I'm in a Monkey Suit, ha ha!"

Winston continued to talk, this most likely was the first wedding he had attended. Angela only half listened, for her eyes searched the crowd. She wasn't sure why it took so long to find her, maybe it was because she was expecting her to be zipping around the tables as such, but Angela finally laid her eyes on Lena Oxton sitting next to her newly wedded wife in the center of the wedding party's table.

Angela wasn't sure what she had expected Lena to be wearing. She was a woman, yet at the same time she always acted rather masculine during their service with Overwatch. From the stories Angela had heard, Lena was not "pure" by any means, yet at the same time Angela knew it was customary for women that were to be wed to wear white. So, sitting next to Emilee in a white gown, Lena was dressed in a sharp, slim cut blueish grey dress uniform. With golden buttons down the front, ribbons and merits over the left breast, and a sharp black tie underneath. Angela recognized the ensemble from some of the other patrons in the crowd, and determined that it must have been her old uniform. Over the chest of the uniform was her Chronal Accelerator, and as Angela considered it, she did recall that Lena was in the Royal Air Force before Overwatch, so it did make sense. For as strange and… well… wrong as it felt, Angela did have to admit that the two did look nicely together. Still, eventually the two would have to address one and other, and that was one thing that Angela wasn't prepared for. But, this wasn't about her, so she could wait until the time was right.

Dinner was served, Angela and Winston and the rest of their table kept each other company as the time went. As requested, Angela was served salmon while Winston had a large platter of fruit, and being excited at his new experience, recapped the rehearsal as well as the ceremony for her.

When dinner was done, a small woman wearing a dress and thick glasses made her way over to the DJ and got a microphone. She made her way over to the center and called the newlyweds down to the dancefloor.

The two stood there for a moment as the photographer got into position and the DJ got the sound system prepared. Angela watched the two, just like how everyone else must have been doing, as they scanned the crowd. Lena looked over the guests, and for a moment, the two of them locked eyes. Dr. Ziegler wasn't expecting it, but it was chilling, almost like the time she stared down the optical lens of a DR-01 during the crisis. Quickly, Lena's gaze continued to shift throughout the crowd of people. It could have been a coincidence, afterall, there were a lot of people here. But deep down, Angela knew that Lena had definitely seen her. Now it was Lena's turn to make the next move.

The hostess spoke once more, "Can I get all of the unwed Ladies and identifiers to report to the dancefloor?"

Angela knew what that meant, and for the sake of not looking like a cooked sugar beat out of embarrassment, she remained seated while a crowd began to form on the center stage. From the opposite side of the room- most likely Emilee's family- young women of all sizes began to rise and make their way to the center floor. On Angela's side, people began to get up at move to the stage. All seemed well until someone in a bright pink dress stood up and turned, revealing a big brown bushy beard hanging from their chin. Following shortly behind was a woman with her hair in a short bob cut, but instead of a normal human color, was an indigo blue, and due to the heat and sweat of the day, was dripping down her back. Angela had to take a minute to take in all of the strange characters she had missed upon her entry as they slowly made their way to the dancefloor.

As the crowd awaited the bouquet toss, Angela came to the realization that these people must have been some of Lena's guests. It wasn't all of them, but it wasn't surprising that she was acquainted with people who followed an alternative lifestyle. It was somewhat strange to think, though, that even with the amount of time that they had spent together, being in the same organization for years, that there was still things that could surprise her about her previous cohorts. Then again, she really wasn't one to judge. After all, she was a catholic woman in a magician's tuxedo at a gay wedding sitting at a table with a blue gorilla.

Winston nudged her, quietly saying, "Uh, doctor, I think you're supposed to go?"

Angela shook her head, saying, "I'll stay here."

"But she just asked for-"

"_Viston._" She said, voice stern and steely, "look down, please."

Dr. Winston sat up, alarmed at her tone. Plus, in his experience, whenever the doctor's accent began to slip into her normal speech, it meant that it was time to listen. He did as he was told, slowly shifting his gaze down and looking at the doctor's foot beside him. Angela Ziegler grabbed her pant leg and slowly began to pull the hem of the trouser up. Winston watched, unsure of what to do as more and more of her smooth and shaved leg was revealed from underneath the black fabric. When he first came to earth, he had been forced to take social training to acclimate himself to humans, to understand that people may be frightened by his large size, loud booming voice, or how he needed to control himself. One thing he had difficulty with was understanding personal space and privacy. For he may be inspecting a shiny diamond necklace, but to onlookers, it may have looked like he was staring at a woman's breasts.

Dr. Winston was unsure what his friend wanted from him, and felt uncomfortable as more of her leg was pulled from her pants. But, before he could ask for assistance, he spotted the dull white of medical tape wrapped around her thigh, and with a wince from Dr. Ziegler, she revealed a half melted bag of ice wrapped around her purple ankle, taped in place by roll upon roll of medical tape.

"…Are you okay?" he asked.

Keeping her voice low and action hidden as to not make a scene, Angela answered, "No. You have no idea how much pain I'm in. So yes, I will be staying right here." She then pulled her pant leg back down, hiding the emergency treatment away from the world.

The crowd counted to three, and then the bouquet went flying through the air, landing in the arms of a woman who had a cat's tail hanging out from under her dress. There was a round of applause, and then the crowd began to disperse. Angela knew what was about to happen next, and more importantly, what happened after that.

The hostess got back onto her microphone once more, saying, "Alright, now can I have all the lads and luvs report to the dance floor?"

Like before, all of the unmarried men began to get up and make their way to the floor. Mostly in tuxedos and dress clothes, and some from Lena's side wearing their Air Force dress uniforms. Winston began to push himself out from the table, but Angela, knowing better as well as Winston's clumsiness, grabbed him by the arm and told him to wait here.

Confused, Winston said, "But, they just said-"

"I know." She answered, "trust me. I'll explain everything later."

Curious, Winston situated himself back in his truck tires and waited, just missing the garter belt as it flew through the air and into the crowd of unmarried men.

* * *

It had been quite a while, and although the icebag was now mostly a bag of very cold water, Angela was surprised that the patch job and tape had held up over all of this time. There had been a fair share of dancing and games that had brought the guests out of their seats throughout the night, but Angela had remained seated through it all. She knew what it must have looked like, as if she was some sort of royalty expecting to be waited on hand and foot, but she knew that trying to overextend her endurance could cause an even greater scene, and she didn't want to do that.

She waited, expecting to be greeted by the two newlyweds at any moment, but it simply did not happen. She sat, waiting patiently and conversing with the other guests when they came, but she was not granted the audience of Emilee or Lena. She couldn't blame them, it wasn't for her behavior, but simply trying to address every guest when there was this many people around meant that most likely somebody would be left behind, and if that meant that it was her, then so be it.

As the night began to turn in, and people began to settle down, Angela spotted a flash of blue light heading out of the banquet hall and outside of the building.

Time getting late and leg beginning to act up once more, Angela decided that it was going to be now or never. She stood, both of her legs stretching in different ways from sitting for so long, and then she used the back of her chair to test her wounded ankle. It still hurt and didn't want to bend, but at the same time, icing it for so long had definitely reduced the swelling. With new vigor, Angela made her way through one of the French doors and looked around.

Immediately outside of the hall was a brick porch, arching around the outdoor area was trees and shrubbery in landscaping, while the far end of the brickwork turned to the asphalt of one of the many pathways through the park.

Lena was nowhere to be found, but standing with other women in matching dresses was Emilee. Angela approached, her leg beginning to tell her that the strength from earlier was only a temporary boost of comfort as she began to favor one side once more.

Angela had never met Emilee in person before, but she was easily recognizable from the picture of their engagement that she had received months ago. Emilee wasn't ugly or plain by any means, but the doctor had to admit that now that she was up close, her dress was incredible. The garment was of an ivory color, with a long ruffled train gown. As she was facing away from her Angela saw that it was a backless dress with long sleeves, and the shoulders connected together into a choker at the base of her neck. Her hair was done up, and she turned around as she heard the uneven clip of footsteps approaching her.

"Emilee?" Angela asked.

The newly wedded woman's eyes opened up at the sight of the doctor, either from her surprising attire or the unmistakable sound of her accent, "Dr. Ziegler? It's so good to see you've made it." She began, "We were a bit worried when we learned that you hadn't attended the reception, but don't worry, your friend Winston told us about what happened. Speaking of which, how are you feeling?"

Angela smiled, slightly rolling her eyes. Winston, bless his heart, was good natured but the absolute worst person when it came to privacy. Bringing attention to herself was the last thing she wanted to do, but oh well. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine." She lied, "I just wanted to tell you that you look wonderful in your dress."

Emilee cooed, "aw, thank you." She leaned in, giving Angela a side hug and added, "I'd give you a hug but my makeup's running."

Angela understood and said, "I hope you had a wonderful day, and I just wanted to thank you once more for inviting me to take a part in it. Even if I… well…" Angela began to search for the right words, a lifetime's worth of apologizing didn't seem like it would suffice for all the trouble she felt she had caused, but Emilee smiled and nodded, insisting that all was well.

Angela then asked if she had seen where Lena had gone off to, and she answered, "the photographer said that this was the last chance to get some good pictures before it gets dark, so she and the lads from her fighter squadron wanted to get some pictu-" All of a sudden, the sound of cussing cut through the air. The women turned, and in the grass outside of the banquet hall were two men who began to throw punches and shout expletives at each other. Immediately, some of the men who were still inside began to make their way out to see what the commotion was. "oh, bloody hell!" Emilee said.

"what's going on?" Angela asked,

Emilee sighed at the sight out of disgust, "Tommy and Nigel, my bloody brothers." She said, "I swear, soon as the whiskey flows half the tossers lose their sense of dignity." She began to walk away, moving with the other members of her family to break up the fight.

Angela, not knowing how much longer she could wait, grabbed ahold of Emilee by the arm, begging her to stay of a moment. She did as requested, and Angela, not knowing where this was coming from, pleaded, "Please… take care of Lena for me. She's yours now. You have to promise me that."

Emilee stopped and turned, giving a quaint smile and said, "Don't worry, Doctor Ziegler. I will, I promise." Before walking away to give her inebriated kin a proper earful.

Angela, feeling a weight that she didn't know existed lifted off her chest, breathed easily and slowly made her way inside. As she staggered away, she wiped her eyes. The heat really must have been getting to her, because it almost felt as if she was crying.

* * *

Having survived the ordeal of walking upstairs and uphill, Angela approached where she had parked her vehicle and rejoiced as the incline evened out to a level area. The ice around her ankle was all but melted, and her foot felt like it was about to break off. She needed to rest, but the thought of sitting and stretching out the muscle any more felt agonizing. So instead of walking to her car, she walked to the opposite side of the sidewalk and rested her elbows down against the safety railing of the hill overlooking the Foundation center and the park.

She couldn't believe it, but it was over. For as laborious and as agonizing as it had seemed, it was all behind her now.

In the time it had taken her to walk back to her vehicle, the sun had fully set, and night had set in. The sky was clear, moon full, and the town behind her had all but only a few lights off, meaning that the night sky was dotted with a sprinkling of bright stars that stretched on for as far as the eye could see.

Oasis was always so busy, and she had always found more than enough things to keep her occupied that she hardly had enough time to just look up at night and see the stars. When life got busy or things seemed too tough, it was humbling to just look up at night and realize how small you were truly were.

Through all the things that she had done, the inventions she made, the lives she saved, the conflicts she had survived, it was silly to think that, truly, the events that had transpired today had caused her the most bother. Before today, it felt like the biggest problem in the universe was that she didn't want to attend a gay wedding, but now that it was over, she realized the scope of it all, and how petty it was. The only regret that she still held was not apologizing to Lena. Actually, she was surprised to get the cold shoulder treatment from her in the first place, but then again Angela probably deserved it. She was in no condition to try and find her at this point, so she may as well try another day.

Maybe those two would be perfect for each other, maybe their union would last for many years, and maybe they would raise children and make a difference in the world; or maybe, in two years, they would be divorced. Angela didn't know what the future held, and as she was beginning to understand, it was all out of her hands at this point. The only thing she could do now was stand by and wait to see what happened, and be a good friend when the time came.

She continued gazing at the stars, Slowly unkinking her leg and allowing it to rest on the pavement. It was times like this that made her wonder; was there life on Mars?

She looked up, facing towards south and found Sagittarius, the upside down centaur archer who mentored Achilles. Angela followed the arch of his arrow to find the bright dot in the sky, and there it was. The red planet itself. She had heard some time before that they had discovered some bacteria up there, and as she gazed on the orb in the sky, she wondered what life was like for them.

Up there, they probably only dealt with the simple things, like trying to find food, or shelter, or trying to not get eaten all day and night. But, she had a feeling that wasn't true. Chances are, up there, they were fighting over the little things in life, like one microbe not liking another, or how one was trying to convince its friend to be there when it finally split into two, or all of the other tiny things that people fight the most over. Right now, she could bet that there was probably a bacteria looking back at her, wondering what something like her had to fret about.

Right now, all she knew was that it was going to be a long time before she ever thought about getting married again. With that, she slowly turned and made her way to the car.

At the Foundation center, all sorts of guest began to make their way out to their vehicles to leave. After one particularly large crowd, a person came running out of the front doors in a flash, frantically looking side to side and then towards the sidewalk up the hill. She raised her hand and said, "Oi, wait up!" before disappearing in a flash.

In the dark, Angela pulled out the keys to her rented car and hit the unlock button, approaching the side as the internal lights and headlights lit the surrounding area. She stepped, reaching with her good leg while her bad ankle supported the weight, but then lost her leverage as the memory of the significant curb at her car came to her, but just too late. Her bad ankle gave out, teetering her over as she fell. She was about to let out a cry, arms instinctively preparing to brace herself, but then stopped as suddenly as she fell.

"Gotcha." Said a voice from behind her.

It all happened so fast that she couldn't comprehend it in the correct order. All she knew was the she wasn't falling, and that there was a pair of arms wrapped around her best. The air filled with the sound of a hypersonic pop, and the wind rushed around her as if something fast had just blown by. There was a heavy presence squeezing into her back, and as she looked to see her late night savior, she could make out the face of Lena Oxton, holding on tightly as she tucked her head into Angela's back.

Thank you for reading. If anyone is interested, I do have a bonus chapter kicking around in my mind if people want a little more.


	8. CH 7 Ziggy Stardust

Ziggy Stardust

A.N.:

Hello, I want to put this here because there is no other way to properly show this while making sense. The first segment is a deleted scene from Ch 6, Life On Mars. I was going to include it, but there was no easy way to put it into the chapter, and sadly, for the bonus chapter to work, it requires that scene. So the first segment will be the added segment from Ch6 and then it will go to the bonus chapter proper. Please enjoy.

* * *

The Shoe Game

"So you're saying that if I caught it, I would have to-"

"Yes. All the way up to her thigh."

Winston sat back in his chair, eyes wide as he reflected over the metaphorical bullet he had just dodged. The primate doctor took a hand and wiped it over his brow, sweating over the thought of how embarrassing it would have been if Angela hadn't stopped him earlier. "Wow, thanks for saving me, then."

"No worries." Angela said, taking a sip of her ice water, predicting Winston wouldn't have known what the tradition of bouquet and garter belt toss was. As soon as the crowd settled down from the previous activity, the hostess appeared once more in the center of the dance floor. Two of Emilee's relatives pushed their chairs away from the table and placed them back to back in the center. The two newly weds sat in the opposing chairs and began to take their shoes off.

Winston leaned closer to Angela, asking, "Oh, is this that 'shoe' game?"

Dr. Ziegler nodded her head and said, "yes."

Both holding a white heel and a shined black boot, Lena and Emilee waited as the hostess pulled out a small stack of note cards and checked her microphone. When ready, she said, "Alright now, you two, I got a stack of questions for you both, answer honestly now…" she inspected her first card, saying, "which of you asked the other out first?"

Leaning back in, Winston asked, "Is there anything I should know about this?"

Both Lena and Emilee held up both of their black boots to the question from the party manager. To answer Winston's question, Angela said, "No, its just as it looks."

The woman wearing glasses then asked, "And which of you paid on that date?" Immediately, Emilee put up a white shoe, Lena hesitated, but then put up her white shoe as well. The crowd in the room burst out in laughter at the answer.

The woman then asked, "Now, which one of you two runs the checkbook in the relationship?" Both white shoes went up, then she asked, "Which of you dropped the hint at getting married first?" Both black boots went up, and then she asked, "And which one of you said, 'I love you' first."

From Emilee, her black boot went up, from Lena, her white shoe went into the air, and the crowd burst out into laughter. Emilee turned around in her chair, arching her neck to see what Lena had answered, and upon seeing her own shoe up, she took the hand at her side and slapped Lena on the hip.

After the laughter died down, the woman asked, "Alright, now. Which one of you will be the one to get up at 1 am to check out the noise in the dark?" Immediately, Both white shoes went up, and then the woman said, "Last and not least, which one of you two will be the first to say, 'Not tonight, luv.'?"

Hiding the smirk on her face, Emilee held up Lena's boot, meanwhile, Lena sat there for a moment, thinking, and finally raising up her own shoe to the applause of the crowd.

* * *

Ziggy Stardust

Exhausted, Angela swiped her magnetic card to her hotel room and opened the door when the reader became green and gave a chime. She staggered into her room, and right before the door was a small knee high table with a giftbag on it. Tired, but curious all the same, She walked past the table and grabbed the bag on her way to the bed, sitting down and taking the weight off her foot. Both of the beds were made, and Angela took a moment to stretch out her wounded ankle and finally relaxed.

When ready, she took a look at the gift bag that had been left in her room and opened it up, half expecting to know what was inside. Looking down at the container, the first thing she saw was a chocolate bar. It was wrapped in a golden foil and a paper label around the center. On the back was the nutritional information, and on the front was the logo of the hotel chain, as well as the flavor, of which it was milk chocolate. It looked gourmet, an obvious attempt to bridge the aesthetic and facade of genuine Swiss high class chocolatiering, with the economy cost and customization of The Hershey Company. It was a simple bribe, but one that she would take regardless.

Next in the bag was a bundle of business cards, a small airplane bottle to pain medication, as well as a small sealed envelope addressed to her. She opened the envelope to find a typed message. The letter read by first wishing her the company's sincerest apologies to any harm that had come to her. It then thanked her for informing management of the condition of the room and requesting a call at her earliest convenience to discuss any further matters. It then stated that the shower rod had been removed and damages to the wall patched, further apologizing for the inconvenience of the patch work and assuring her that all work had been done under management supervision. It then informed her that her stay had been refunded in full and once again thanked her for her patronage before signing the letter with the name of the manager, his number, as well as the contact information of the legal department and the complaints department.

She set the letter aside and then slowly laid down on the bed, closing her eyes for a moment to rest. It was obvious that the hotel was doing this in fear of being sued, and she couldn't blame them. She was in a hurry when she left earlier today, but she felt it necessary to inform them of what had happened in her bathroom and to clean up the mess. The front desk staff asked if she would like to request medical attention, but she had no time to waste going out to the hospital, so they did their job, took a picture of her handiwork on her ankle, and she left a business card with them for later.

Investigating, the manager probably thought she was a conman at first, but probably changed his mind after looking into his guest and realizing in horror that she was the real Dr. Ziegler. She would give them a call later now that she wasn't rushing to a wedding, but she really didn't care. Refunding the stay was a kind gesture, but all she wanted was to not be charged for the shower curtain, and to hopefully let them know about the hazard before anyone else could get hurt…. But the chocolate was a nice touch though.

She thought about possibly getting her phone out and giving the manager a call now, but decided against it, thinking it would be best saved till morning. Instead, she rubbed her eyes and then conjoined her hands together, thinking, "Lord, Please watch over Lena and her w… and Emilee. Please."

She sat up and then decided that it was best that she get some rest, she had a very long journey over the next few days to get back to Oasis, so she may as well try to recover now to make the trip more comfortable. She wanted to get out of these clothes, but before that, she definitely needed to get some more ice on her leg.

She took off her shoes, then closed the curtains on her window, and then made her way towards the bathroom, untying the bow around her neck and letting it down at the garment bag by her other luggage. She grabbed some new underwear and an undershirt and made her way to the bathroom, taking a tentative step on the tiles and finding them much more firm against her socks. She walked in, leaving the door open for now and noticed that as the letter had said, the shower curtain was gone and white patch marks were on the ripped places of the drywall.

The sink and countertop was still an absolute mess, the Ice O Matic had a fresh bucket of ice, scissors and medical tape were littered around one side next to makeup, combs and other beauty utensils. It made her uneasy that people, most likely men, had been in the room and around her garments while she was away, but there was nothing that she could do about it.

She began to unbutton the top most buttons on her collar of the shirt, relieving her neck of the heavy starch collar of her white dress shirt. She closed her eyes at the new found freedom around her throat. But, unbeknownst to her, a hand appeared around the hidden corner of the room, hiding in the negative space that the door swung into.

The doctor reached her hands up and pulled her hair tie out, letting her hair fall into sharp jagged angles from the position they kept all day. The interloper's hand grabbed onto the door, slowly pushing it aside and into the closed position. The door swung on silent hinges until it finally clicked shut. Angela turned, not knowing what the strange noise was, but jumped when she saw someone standing in the corner of the bright white room.

The dress was fine, a dark navy blue like the night sky with a sprinkling of stars from above, but her skin was cold, an unnatural dark color almost like a corpse. But what had caused the most alarm, the shocked-to-silence cherry on top of the terror sundae, were the eye, glowing amber yellow, the kind that Angela had recognized on only one other person that she had met before.

Amelie Guilliard-Lacroix, Prima Ballerina of the Paris Ballet, wife and widower to the late Commissioner of Overwatch Gerald Lacroix, and the terrorist organization Talon's brainwashed assassin. Better known as "Widowmaker".

The Swiss doctor's eye's became as wide as saucers, heart racing as she began to scream at the very top of her lungs. Amelie raised the gun in her hand, staring straight forward at the doctor and pulled the trigger before she could make a sound.

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

Although both feet were securely on the ground now, Lena held on steadfast to Angela, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as the Coronal Accelerator pushed into her back. Angela had been used to wandering eyes throughout her life, Lena was no different, except that her hands would sometimes sneak their way onto her person, and for as much as she would have just accepted the catch to be another "inconvenient" placement of hands, something about this was different. Like someone clutching a life preserver in deep water, Lena's embrace was less protecting her from the forces or gravity, and more trying to prevent her from leaving the party.

Eventually, Angela brought her hands up and unwrapped Lena from her chest, turning around and then leaning herself against her car. Lena stood there, watching as she comforted herself against the car. Now facing each other, Angela had a better view of her old friend. The most eye-catching thing about her was that she wasn't wearing her usual set of orange single-frame goggles. Instead, her eyes were shining in the dark with their natural blue look. For the first time she could think of it, she was also wearing makeup, a powdering around her cheeks covering up her freckles, while her normally spikey hair was back in a low ponytail. Finally, from being too far away or underneath tables, Angela noticed that Lena was wearing a knee length skirt as a part of her dress uniform. Still standing there, Lena waited while Angela recovered from the fall, but it seemed that her silence meant more as she stood there on the curb after Angela had taken the weight off the foot.

Making the first move, Angela said, "Thank you."

Snapping out of the trance, Lena said, "Don't mention it, luv." Like her mind had just been jump-started, she then said, "Are you alright? Winston said you took a tumble and banged up your knee."

"_Damnit, Winston_." Angela mentally snapped, but then said, "Yes, yes, I did, but I'm fine now." She then motioned downward towards he pants, saying, "Luckily, this actually worked out for me." She then shifted her gaze to Lena, then saying, "You look quite nice, Lena."

Lena took a step back, trying to stuff her hands into pockets that were there before presenting herself in her uniform, "Oh, this old thing? Nah, I was going to get a dress myself but I had to contend with this bastard," she said before rapping her knuckles on the bulky Coronal Accelerator on her chest. She then replied, "You look quite dapper yourself, by the way."

Angela thanked her, and then there was another extended silence, until Lena finally said, "I'm sorry, Angela. I really shouldn't said those things and… well… I still can't believe you made it." Tears began to well up in her eyes, and as she began to wipe them away, Angela staggered to a stand and then walked towards Lena, bringing her into an embrace. Standing at even heights, Lena placed her head on Angela's shoulder and she wiped her eyes and sniffled.

The two separated, Lena looking much more relieved after all that had just happened, and Angela feeling better with herself over what she had done. Feeling better, Lena then said, "I'm sorry if you were kind of… tied up at everything, but if you're up for it, we're having brunch tomorrow at a local place. I'm in no place to ask anything more from you, but even with all the trouble I made for you and your big guy upstairs, I'd appreciate it if you could make it. I'd love to introduce you to the new family."

Angela wasn't sure on what the times were for her flight home tomorrow, but she promised Lena that she would try to make it none the less. But there was something that Lena said that she did take umbrage with. Sheepishly, Angela smiled and said, "Lena, I missed your ceremony, so I don't think there's anything to forgive for me."

Lena Oxton thought about it for a minute, and realized that it seemed that Angela was right, and as she thought of all of it, she began to laugh at the entire thing. Having had enough of this day, Angela mentioned that she needed to get back to her lodgings, and Lena helped her into her car. Before she closed the door for her friend, Lena mentioned that everything was filmed, and that she would send a copy to her when they got the tapes back.

Before she pulled away, Angela rolled down the windshield, remembering one last thing and pulled out a sealed envelope from one of the many interior pockets of her vest. Assuming that Lena had indeed ripped up her gift from before, Angela had written another one and gave it to her old friend, telling her, "It's something from me to you and your new wife."

Lena took the envelope in her hands, thinking that she herself would probably have not taken the courtesy to do such a thing, and thanked her for it, but had to add, "She's my partner now. But for you, she can be my wife."

* * *

_Later…_

The doors to the elevator opened with an electronic ping. Once the entryway was clear, Emilee and Lena exited into the hall and made their way to their new room. It had been a long day for both of them, and now that they were in some relative privacy, it was beginning to show. Loose hairs were getting free, makeup and sweat was starting to run on them, and the way they carried themselves was much more casual and less graceful.

Not speaking to one and another, Lena took the key to the new room and opened the door, entering and closing the door behind her new spouse. The lights were already on in the newlywed sweet, illuminating the large luxurious room within, showing the large glass table in the center, flat screen TV, and a large bed opposite of it. Now, truly in the privacy of closed doors, the two began to be themselves. Emilee made her way to the restroom, and began to get changed out of her dress. Meanwhile, Lena began to get undressed too, first finding her luggage and getting out a set of grey sweatpants and a tank top before setting them on the bed. She undressed as much of herself as she could- her shoes, her stockings, her skirt, and her tie- before dealing with the medical device that she had on her chest, and when the time came, she walked to another suitcase.

This suitcase was large, a lead lined container with wheels that she put the secured combination into and then scanned her fingerprint. The case opened, and at that point, she began to unstrap and release the seals of the time anchor that she wore. She had about two minutes before experiencing side effects of not wearing the device, so acting quickly, she set it down placed it into its position inside of the case. Then, she unbuttoned her jacket and shirt, finally discarding her sweaty undershirt and changing into her new set of clothes before donning the smaller variant of the same device and secured it with the nylon straps and belts.

Now that she was done, Lena walked over to the bed and laid down , resting her back while sitting up on top of the throw pillows and turned on the television, catching the evening news while Emilee got cleaned up. It was good to take a seat and unwind, but the truth was, there was something else on Lena's mind.

From the bathroom, Emilee said, "I think that went pretty well, don't you?" Lena turned her head, seeing her spouse in the reflection of the bathroom mirror and cleaning her face with a wet wipe, half changed out of her dress.

"Yeah," Lena said, only half listening, "things could have been worse."

"Rachel managed to keep herself under control, so that's a bullet dodged."

"Yeah." Mind wandering as she listened. "And we only had to break up two fights."

"No," Emilee corrected, " three. Nigel and Tommy thought they would sort things out with each other at the end."

Lena gave a huff, "those two really have a problem, don't they?" she asked.

"Yeah, but they're family, so what can you do about it. I'm just glad my dad didn't start anything with Jazz-mine about what loo she had to use."

Still in a partial fog, Lena said, "Its 'they' Em. They."

Emilee exited the bathroom, washed up and holding her dress folded over in her arms while a white nighty had replaced it. She rolled her eyes at the correction, muttering something about "being a woman three months ago" as she placed her dress in it's box. Lena took the opening and made her way to the bathroom to wash her face off, cleaning up her makeup and rinsing her face off with cold water.

Cleaning off the bed, Emilee then said, "Winston seemed to enjoy himself, I hope he didn't mind that my nieces and nephews were using him like a playset."

Lena answered her, "No, I don't think he minded at all." Lena glanced in the mirror, seeing Emilee on the bed, but watching her in the mirror as she got her toothbrush out and brushed her teeth.

Just from the look in her eyes, Emilee knew something was up. Lena was always the life of any party, but afterwards, she would always need her quiet time to decompress. It was just that Emilee could tell that there was something else going on now. Angela was on Lena's mind, the lead up to this day had been an emotional rollercoaster, and the news that Dr. Ziegler had decided to come had kept the ride twisting and turning. Lena had half expected Angela to have changed her mind once more and recanted on her attendance. Her appearance once more had turned everything around one more time, but it still left her conflicted in her thoughts. The things she had said and done to her to get her to come were impulsive and mean, but throughout all of it, she still had the decency to show up in the end. Lena didn't really know what to think, like if it was her more rebellious self from years ago getting invited to a wedding and declining on her lack of belief only to shouted at and had terrible things said about her, would she still find it in herself to forgive? If she was being honest, a part of her would have enjoyed antagonizing someone like that.

"Oh, I met your friend, by the way, Doctor Ziegler?" Emilee watched Lena, studying if her body language changed as she brushed her teeth, "You weren't lying when you said she's got some cans on her. I swear, If she tried to give me a hug it may look like I was motorboating her. Oh, and why was she wearing a tuxedo, anyway?"

Lena, mouth full of toothpaste and suds, mumbled something to the effect of, "I don't know."

"Well, I'm just surprised she showed up, afterall. I thought she had just lied to Winston and made up the whole leg thing to cover for sleeping in, but she didn't look like she was moving too well."

Lena, having enough of just listening, spat out and cleared her mouth, saying "I'm sure she's telling the truth. Angela wouldn't lie." Lena walked over to the bed, seeing Emilee had opened it and was now lying with her legs at her side as she watched the tv. Her face was washed clean, hair still had a few leftover curls from the previous day, and one of the straps of her nightgown was distractedly hanging off the side of her shoulder.

"Did she…_go home_ with anyone?" Emilee asked.

Immediately, Lena answered, "No. she's probably on her knees praying for us both right now."

Emilee nodded, thinking for a moment and then said, "If she's around tomorrow, I should probably try to introduce her to my father and Garrett. They'd both probably like to thank her."

Lena nodded, agreeing with, "They would."

For as long as she had known her, Lena always told Emilee fascinating stories about her times working in various combat forces. For the longest time, "Angela" was just another of many names and possibly a previous lover, but that all changed one day when the two were sitting in their flat reading, and then Lena began to rip up her monthly copy of Queer! Magazine. Apparently, Lena had been reading and stumbled across an article that had smeared one of her friends, it had something had to do with a football player, she wasn't really sure. After calling the publisher and cancelling her subscription, Lena had finally calmed down and began to explain, and it was at that moment she began to think that she had heard about "Angela" before.

Her father and brother had been in Kings Row trying to find an apartment when the Null Sector terror attack occurred. Apparently, Garrett had been shot in the left kidney and twice in the leg. Somehow, they made their way to a medical center, and after hours of operating and 2 pints of blood, it was beginning to look like the doctors were running out of hope to save his life. Then, as her father described, in an almost dreamlike trance, the door of the tent opened, and from a blinding light came a woman with angel's wings on her back, carrying baskets full of yellow fluid in vials in both hands. Apparently, she moved to the side of Emilee's brother, asked for a diagnosis, and then injected him with 150ml of the Nanobiotic fluid. Soon after, she was gone just as she appeared, off to the next operating tent.

Both of the men said that they would love to thank whoever that woman was, and today, they had shared the same room with her. A medic from an Organization the media wanted them all to hate, from a strike team that wasn't supposed to be there.

Lena awoke from her trance, thinking about the event and all that it meant, and then said, "I'm just glad that Angela managed to make it after all."

Emilee smiled in a devilish way, saying, "I told you I could do it." Booping her new spouse on the nose. Lena thanked her stars that Emilee had decided to change from psychology to accounting. After all, she was scary with her wild witching ways.

Lena then turned the lights off, and getting the hint, Emilee turned the television off and both tucked themselves into bed. Lena, lying on her back from a long day, took a long breath and exhaled it in a long sigh. She was then tapped on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Emilee laying on her side as she asked, "So… do you want to make it… _official_?"

With heavy eyes, Lena gave a small smile, but had to admit, "Sorry, not tonight, luv."

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

"Lena, do you take Emilee to be yours, through sickness and in health, for ever and ever till death do you part?"

"I do."

The HDMI stick, hooked into the hotel room's TV, showed the perspective of a grand old English church, over rows of people in fine suits and dresses as they watched two women confess their love for one and another. The focus zoomed, camera shaking a touch with the adjustment and focusing on Emilee as she reached up and wiped a tear from Lena's eye.

There was sniffing in the room, and on the bed in front of said TV were two people, one wore shiny black dress shoes while the other wore a tall set of heels. What followed the heels were stockings, as well as a fine silk dress. But opposite of them were a set of black dress slacks, one leg of which was ripped down the seam as a sealed bag of ice was taped to the wearer's ankle. Tracing up the two forms to midway, a shiny stainless steel bucket was full of ice, courtesy of the Ice O Matic, and resting in the bucket was an opened bottle of fine champagne. An equally shiny wrap of duct tape bound the legs of the slacks together.

A hand came into view, setting a half drunken flute of champagne down on the memory foam mattress, and following the blue hand back to where it had come, Amelie Lacroix took a tissue and wiped the corner of her eye.

Amelie laid her head back down, resting on the shoulder of the person she shared the bed with. Angela Ziegler, with a welt on her neck from where the dart had hit, was silent. Her button shirt was undone, exposing her cleavage and an envelope full of English Pounds shoved between her breasts for the suit rental while rolls of duct tape wrapped her hands and a single layer covered her mouth.

The man on the Television then said, "Emilee, do you take Lena to be yours, through sickness and in health, for ever and ever till death do you part?"

"I Do."

Arms around her captive and pretending that she was in another life, Widowmaker smiled as she watched the copy of the raw stolen footage, rocking her head on the tuxedo's shoulder pad as she looked over at her partner and said in her sultry French accent, "Aren't weddings wonderful?"

_Ziggy played… guitar~~~~_


End file.
